Sherlock Holmes's Adventures at Hogwarts
by AnnaKilljoy
Summary: When John returns to Hogwarts for his sixth year, he meets the mysterious Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock/John slash.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

John opened the door of an empty train compartment and went to sit inside, feeling lonely.  
>It was the first of September, and his sixth year at Hogwarts was about to begin. He'd been to Diagon Alley to buy his school supplies a few weeks ago.<br>Usually, he sat with Mike Stamford, but Mike was a Prefect and had to sit in the Prefect compartment. John didn't have many other friends at Hogwarts, as he was a bit of a loner. He didn't mind being alone, but at the moment it made him feel slightly uncomfortable.

The compartment door suddenly slid open, revealing a tall, pale boy with dark curls. 'Mind if I join you?'

'Er – no. I mean, sure. Fine by me.'

The boy nodded and sat down opposite John, gazing out of the window with intensity. He had blue, cold eyes. John guessed the boy was about sixteen. Why had he never seen him before?  
>'Are you new?' he asked. As soon as he'd said it, he realized it sounded rude.<p>

The boy looked at him, his eyes boring into John's. 'Yes,' he said simply.

'Um, okay. I didn't know that was possible. People usually start school when they're eleven.'

'Clearly, I'm an exception,' said the boy, still observing John. 'Where're your friends?'

'I'm sorry?'

'You're sitting alone, yet I can see you're not feeling comfortable. Therefore, you're not usually alone. So where're your friends?'

'I only have one friend, actually. Mike's a Prefect.'

'Yet you're not very close, are you?' the boy mumbled. 'You don't easily trust people.'

John stared at him, wondering how the hell he knew this. He decided not to ask. Instead, he said, 'What's your name, then?'

'Sherlock Holmes.'

_Strange name, _thought John. 'I'm John Watson. So… you haven't been Sorted yet, have you?'

'No.'

'You've got quite some catching up to do. What year are you going to be in?'

'Sixth.'

'You've missed five years! How on earth are you going to cope?'

'I'm clever.'

John raised his eyebrows. This boy sure was self-assured. Well, after a week at Hogwarts he wouldn't be that confident anymore. The sixth year was difficult enough as it was. 'Hang on – Holmes, is it?' he suddenly realized. 'Related to Mycroft Holmes, that seventh-year?'

'Obviously.'

'Why didn't you go to Hogwarts before this year?'

Sherlock avoided John's eyes and didn't speak. Clearly, he didn't want to talk about it. John decided not to push him. 'D'you know what House you're going to be in? Mycroft's in Slytherin, isn't he?'

Sherlock ignored John's question and asked, 'What House are you in?'

'Gryffindor.'

'Good.' Sherlock nodded to himself. 'So how's your sister? Still drinking?'

'Wh-what?' said John, his eyes widening. _How the hell did this guy know about his sister?  
><em>  
>'Your sister. What's her name? Ah, Harry.'<p>

'How can you possibly know that?' John exclaimed.

Sherlock shook his head, looking disappointed. 'Why, John, it's not that difficult. The label on your suitcase has your sister's name on it.'

'How d'you know she's not my brother?'

'Brothers don't draw hearts on labels,' explained Sherlock, a small smile on his face.

John stared at Sherlock's face for a moment before realizing he was being rude again. Embarrassed, he dropped his gaze. 'And the drinking? How'd you know about that?'

'Come on, isn't it obvious?' John looked up to see Sherlock was looking at him expectantly, as if he wanted to test him. John decided to try and inspected the suitcase.

'She didn't draw a bottle of wine on the label, did she?' he asked stupidly.

'No,' said Sherlock. 'Try using your other senses.'

_Your other… Oh! _John sniffed the air. 'The suitcase smells like alcohol.'

'Exactly,' Sherlock said again, leaning back. The smile had reappeared on his face and he looked at John approvingly. 'You're not as ignorant as most.'

'I'll take that as a compliment,' grinned John. 'So what are you, some kind of genius?'

'You could say that.'

'I bet you're going to be in Ravenclaw. All the smart-asses are in there.'

During the rest of the train journey, John talked some more with Sherlock and found out he was a strange guy. John didn't exactly fit in at school, but he was _sure _Sherlock wouldn't fit in, either. He was strange: sometimes very quiet, sometimes suddenly talkative. When he was quiet he wasn't shy, it was more like he was observing John. John found it kind of uncomfortable and tried to start a conversation again, but Sherlock didn't seem to like talking about useless things.

...

When in the end the train stopped, the two of them, having changed into their school robes, left the train. Sherlock looked up at Hogwarts in wonder and even John, who'd seen the castle many times before, was slightly awed.  
>Before them was a large lake, and on the other side of the lake was an enormous castle towering over them. There were many towers and windows.<br>'Firs'-years!' shouted a giant man John knew as Hagrid.

'I think you have to go with him,' said John to Sherlock, who was staring up at Hagrid. 'You're not a first-year, but this is your first time at Hogwarts.'

'Where're you going?' asked Sherlock.

'The sixth years go to the castle by carriage,' explained John, pointing at the carriages behind him.

Sherlock went to stand with the first-years, looking slightly uncomfortable. It was the first time John saw him really showing his emotions, and somehow it touched him. He almost wanted to stay with Sherlock, until he realized that wasn't possible. He quickly dashed up towards the carriages.

..

'I met your brother on the train,' John said. He was sitting in a carriage, next to Mycroft Holmes.

'Did you now?' said Mycroft. 'And what did you think of him?'

'He was… strange. Nice enough, though.'

'Strange. A lot of people call him that.'

'How come you didn't sit with him?' John asked, accusation creeping into his voice. 'He's your younger brother and it's his first time at Hogwarts.'

'He wouldn't let me,' smiled Mycroft. 'Me and my brother have a difficult relationship.'

'Oh.' John thought about that. 'So why's he only going to Hogwarts this year?'

'I'm not the one to tell you,' said Mycroft. Always so mysterious.

John sighed. 'Whatever. It's not my business, anyway.' _But I wish it was._

_..._

'John, there you are!' Mike sat down next to John in the Great Hall. 'The first-years can come in any minute. I wish they'd hurry up, I'm hungry.'

_Not only first-years_, thought John, his mind still on the strange Sherlock Holmes.

The doors of the Great Hall suddenly opened and Professor MacGonagall entered the Hall, followed by a group of small, nervous-looking children. Sherlock was the last to enter. People pointed at him, whispering, no doubt wondering what he was doing there.

'Isn't he a bit too old?' said Mike.

'No,' John snapped. 'It's not his fault he's only going to Hogwarts now. Besides, he's going to be in the sixth year, not the first.'

Mike looked taken aback. 'Oh. I'm sorry – no need to be angry.'

'That's okay,' mumbled John, going red. _Why am I protecting him? He doesn't even need protection. That guy can survive perfectly well on his own.  
><em>  
>This seemed true, as Sherlock paid absolutely no attention to the people pointing at him. However, John had the feeling that he <em>did <em>care, he just didn't show it.  
>The Sorting Hat was placed on a stool. The first-years all stared at it, unsure of what was going to happen.<p>

Mike grinned. 'Remember when we were that young, John? When the Hat opened its mouth, I thought it was going to eat me!'

John grinned too, looking at the perplexed faces of the first-years as the Hat opened its mouth – and began to sing.  
>As the Hat sang its song, John found himself looking at Sherlock again. Suddenly, Sherlock looked at him too. Their eyes locked and for a moment John couldn't look away. Then the song ended, and both of them quickly looked away as everyone applauded.<p>

Professor MacGonagall stood up. 'Let's start the Sorting Ceremony!'

**So what d'you think? (:**

_Edit: So I accidentally wrote down Moriarty was in Ravenclaw, while he's actually in Slytherin xD. I just corrected it._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

'Holmes, Sherlock!'

John froze and watched as Sherlock walked up to the Hat, looking calm. He sat down on the Stool and the Hat was placed on his head. John expected it to shout, '_Ravenclaw_!' right away; after the conversation he'd had with Sherlock on the train he was sure the boy was a genius, but the Hat seemed to be in doubt, muttering to itself.

He remembered sitting on that exact same stool six years ago. He'd been terribly nervous, and had been really relieved when the Hat had shouted, _'Gryffindor!_' It had always been his favourite House and his whole family had been in Gryffindor.

'_Slytherin!_'

_Slytherin? _John looked puzzled as Sherlock got up and went to the Slytherin table, which had exploded with applause.

'Slytherin, huh?' mumbled Mike.

'Lay off him, Mike. There's nothing wrong with Slytherin,' said John immediately. 'I know loads of friendly Slytherins.' He should've known Sherlock could be a Slytherin – because Mycroft was one, too. It wasn't always the case that family members got Sorted into the same House, but it happened quite often.

Professor Dumbledore got up and waved his wand, and the tables filled with all sorts of food. John, forgetting all his problems, tucked in. While he was eating, he saw Sarah trying to catch his eye, but he deliberately looked away.

'She still likes you, you know,' said Mike.

'We broke up last year, Mike,' said John irritably.

'So how's your sister?' asked Mike, changing the subject. 'She's in her final year now, right?'

John looked at his sister, who was sitting on the other end of the table, chatting with her friends. 'Yeah. I don't know how she's going to cope, though, because she's not very motivated.'

'At least students can't bring alcohol into the school,' said Mike.

'Believe me, she'll find a way. You remember last year? She bought loads of Firewhiskey from Hogsmeade and sneaked them into the school.'

'So who d'you reckon that new boy is? The older one?' Lestrade, a seventh-year Gryffindor, asked his friends.

'He's called Sherlock Holmes,' said John.

'Holmes? Mycroft's brother?'

'That's right.'

'He looks… strange,' said Lestrade, frowning. 'Still, we should make him feel welcome. D'you know him well, John?'

'We met on the train.'

'How is he?'

'Like you said, strange,' John answered. 'Not in a bad way, though.'

'Strange in a _good _way?' asked one of Lestrade's friends haughtily. John ignored him.

...

When everyone was full, the food disappeared and Professor Dumbledore gave a speech, telling the students the usual things: stay out of the Forbidden Forest, no magic in the corridors etcetera. Finally, they were allowed to go to their dormitories. The other Gryffindors departed and John wanted to leave, too, when he heard a voice behind him. 'I hope you don't hate me now.'

John whirled around. 'Sherlock! Don't do that _ever _again, you scared me!'

'I'm sorry,' said Sherlock, but the corner of his mouth was pulled up in a crooked smile.

'No, I don't hate you,' said John, answering Sherlock's question. 'Why would I?'

'Because I'm a Slytherin and you're a Gryffindor. I heard there's a lot of competition between our Houses.'

'That's true,' admitted John. 'But I don't mind. Not all Slytherins are bad.'

'Thanks,' said Sherlock and he actually sounded relieved. 'I don't like the other Slytherins much,' he added.

'You don't?'

'I overheard some conversations during dinner and they seem like a bunch of losers to me.'

John grinned. 'Except for your brother?'

'_Especially _my brother.' Sherlock looked around, then cursed. 'Where're the others?'

'You mean the other Slytherins?' John also looked around and noticed Sherlock was right: they were gone. 'They must've gone to their dormitories. You'd better go there, too.'

'But where _are _the dormitories?'

'Oh.'

'What – you mean you don't know?' Sherlock asked, his eyebrows knitting together. He looked disappointed.

'Don't expect me to know everything!' exclaimed John. 'I'm a Gryffindor, I'm not even _allowed _to know where the Slytherin common room is!'

'Need any help?' a smooth voice asked.

John looked up and saw it was Mycroft. _Those Holmes brothers sure know how to sneak up on you, _he thought. 'Yeah, we need to find the Slyther–'

'No, thanks,' Sherlock interrupted John. He smiled at his brother, but his eyes remained cold. 'We'll find our way.'

'Wha – no, we won't, Sherlock! We've got no idea where the common room is!' said John.

'I'm sure I'll be able to find it,' said Sherlock coldly. 'I don't need _his _help.' He walked away.

'What's wrong with him?' John asked Mycroft angrily.

'Like I said before, we've got a difficult relationship. If I were you, I'd help him.'

'But I don't know where we have to go!'

'The dungeons. And don't tell him I told you this.'

John rushed after Sherlock. 'Fine, no Mycroft! I'll help you! I think it's in the dungeons.'

'My brother told you, didn't he?'

'…Yes.'

Sherlock rolled his eyes. 'Whatever. Thanks, John. I'll be going.' He went into a corridor to the left.

'Er, Sherlock?'

Sherlock stopped walking and looked around. 'What now?' he asked impatiently.

'The dungeons are that way,' said John, pointing to the right.

'Oh.' Sherlock turned around and set off in the opposite direction, stopping when the corridor split up into two different corridors. He turned to John. 'Could you lead me there?'

John could see from his expression that he hated depending on someone else, but he figured it was better than his brother helping him. 'Sure,' he shrugged.

They made their way through dark corridors and down marble staircases, finally arriving in the creepiest part of the castle: the dungeons.

'So where's the common room?' asked Sherlock.

'I don't know. Gryffindor, remember?' said John irritably.

Sherlock looked at him, amusement in his icy blue eyes.

'It's right here, Sherlock,' said a voice behind them. John didn't have to turn around to recognize the smooth voice: it was Mycroft.

'How'd you get here?' asked John, amazed.

'Oh, he followed us, obviously,' said Sherlock. 'Didn't you hear him?'

Mycroft smiled his mysterious smile, then turned around to face a wall. 'Dark Arts,' he said. The wall slid open to reveal a dark room. When Mycroft had gone inside, the wall closed again.

'Well, I guess you won't be needing me anymore, then,' said John uncomfortably. 'So I'll just go to my common room.'

'Which is one of those three high towers, right?' said Sherlock.

'Yes – how d'you know that?'

'I overheard a Gryffindor talking about how beautiful the view of the Great Lake was in her common room. She described the view in a way that made me realize it was only possible for her common room to be in one of the towers.'

John shook his head. 'That's amazing.'

'Why, thank you.'

There was an uncomfortable silence. John tried not to meet Sherlock's eye, but in the end he looked up into the boy's face, to find him staring at him, a frown on his face.

'You do that a lot,' noted John.

'What?'

'Stare at people.'

'I observe,' said Sherlock. 'Sometimes it's like I can read people's thoughts.'

'Well, I hope you can't read mine,' said John nervously. 'Anyway, I'll be going. Goodnight.'

'Night, John.'

**So that was chapter 2 (:  
>I've already written a couple of other chapters, but I'm not going to post all of them at once because I have to go to school again, which means I'll have less time to write, and I don't want to break between later chapters to be too long.<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

When John arrived in the Great Hall the next morning, he automatically searched for Sherlock. He found the boy standing in the middle of the Great Hall, having an argument with Donavan and Anderson from Hufflepuff. A lot of people were looking at the three of them and giggling. John rushed over to Sherlock. 'What's going on?'

'That freak is going on!' shouted Donavan angrily. Her voice sounded shrill. 'How dare he–'

'I don't know what you're implying–' hissed Anderson.

'I'm not implying anything!' said Sherlock. 'I merely hoped you could make it a bit _less _obvious.'

'Make what less obvious?' asked John.

'That this girl spent the night in the boys dormitories last night,' said Sherlock smoothly. 'Didn't the other boys in your year say something about it?'

Anderson went red. 'I don't – you can't be serious–'

John pulled Sherlock away from the two Hufflepuffs. 'Did you have to make them angry? How did you know, anyway?'

'Oh, come on! It's not that difficult, is it? They were both wearing the same men's deodorant!'

John sighed. 'Not all that clever, are you?'

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. 'What d'you mean?'

'Picking a fight on your first school day – not very smart, is it? You may be a genius, but you're not smart about everything.'

'_I _didn't get angry,' hissed Sherlock angrily. 'I merely made an observation.'

John decided to give up. 'Whatever. So what's your first lesson?'

'Potions,' said Sherlock promptly.

John wondered if he'd memorized his schedule. He wouldn't be surprised. 'That's my first lesson too! Are you nervous?'

'Why would I be nervous?'

'Because Potions is difficult – and you've never had it before.'

'Haven't I?' With those words, Sherlock turned around and went to sit at the Slytherin table. Confused, John sat down at the Gryffindor table, pouring himself some juice. Had Sherlock been taught magic before this year? Maybe he'd been taught by his parents. Or maybe he'd gone to another school. He looked over at Sherlock, who didn't seem to be eating anything, and wondered if the strange boy had a secret.

...

'Today, we're going to be making the Draught of Living Death,' said Professor Slughorn dramatically. 'This is an extremely difficult Potion and I don't expect all of you to succeed, as it's only your first try. Turn to page ten of your book and start brewing!'

John looked at the recipe and started gathering the ingredients he needed. As he was chopping his valerian roots, he looked over to Sherlock, who was sitting next to him. To his surprise, Sherlock was already much farther than John. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing. His Potion was a light shade of lilac, and whatever John tried, he couldn't get his Potion to look the same.

When at last the time was up, John's Potion was a dark grey colour, while Sherlock's was clear as water. Professor Slughorn looked down John's cauldrons to inspect it, nodding approvingly. 'Not bad, not bad at all.' He turned to Sherlock. 'The new guy.' Some Slytherins laughed, but Sherlock ignored them.

Professor Slughorn raised his eyebrows. 'I'm impressed! Have you ever done this before, boy?'

'No, sir.'

'Then you must be extremely talented.' Professor Slughorn nodded. 'Extremely talented indeed. Ten points to Slytherin!'

John saw the other Gryffindors glaring at Sherlock, obviously jealous because "the new guy" had beaten them. Even Mike looked resentful. The Slytherins, on the other hand, were cheering. But Sherlock paid them no attention.

'Where did you learn to brew Potions like that?' John asked when the bell rang.

Sherlock shrugged. 'I'm a genius.'

John raised his eyebrows. _It's true he's a genius, _he thought. _But he's hiding something. Not even he could make a perfect Draught of Living Death at first try. _Still, he didn't say anything.

As John and Sherlock left the classroom, someone behind them said, 'John?'  
>John sighed.<p>

'Who's that, your ex-girlfriend?' asked Sherlock.

John stared at him. 'You can't have figured _that _out. You must've heard it somewhere.'

'I was just guessing. She keeps looking at you during class, you ignore her – it's not that hard.'

'She was looking at me in class?' repeated John, going red.

'John! I just wanted to say… I'm sorry,' said Sarah, catching up with them. She looked at Sherlock. 'Oh – you're friends with the new guy?'

'His name is Sherlock,' said John calmly.

'Oh. Hi.'

'Anyway, I have to go,' said Sherlock quickly. 'My next class is waiting. Nice to meet you.' He rushed off.

_Damn you, Sherlock_, thought John. 'So… how was your summer?' he asked uncomfortably.

Sarah ignored the question. 'I'm sorry I was angry last year. I know how important Quidditch was for you, but I just thought you found it more important than me when you cancelled our date because you had to go to Quidditch practice.'

'Well, that's okay,' said John awkwardly.

'Friends?'

'I suppose.' John smiled. 'Um, what's our next lesson?'

'Charms.'

...

'Had a nice conversation with Sarah?' asked Sherlock innocently. John, who was sitting at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, dropped his toast and looked at Sherlock, who had suddenly appeared behind him. Sherlock smiled at John's shocked expression.

'Yeah, great,' answered John. 'Splendid.'

'She still likes you,' said Sherlock.

'So I've been told.'

'And d'you still like her?' asked Sherlock casually.

'I don't think so,' admitted John. 'We can be friends, though. That's cool.' He looked up at Sherlock's face to find the boy was studying him with his icy eyes. 'What?'

'Nothing,' said Sherlock immediately, dropping his gaze. 'Our next class is together, isn't it?'

John got out his schedule. 'Yup. Defence Against the Dark Arts.' He shuddered. 'Snape.'

'The one with the long, unwashed hair?'

'Yes, that one,' grinned John.

'I don't like him.'

'How d'you know that? You haven't even met him. Don't judge people by their looks.'

'_I _can judge people by their looks,' said Sherlock. 'I'm really good at judging people.'

'Right.' John decided to drop the subject. 'You're right, though. Snape's a creep.'

...

A few minutes later John and Sherlock were sitting next to each other in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. John noticed some of the other Gryffindors were shooting him looks.  
>'They're wondering why you're suddenly friends with a Slytherin,' Sherlock answered John's unspoken question.<p>

'Good for them,' said John. 'Don't you have any Slytherin friends?'

'Like I told you, they're a bunch of losers.'

'I take it I'm not a loser?'

'You seem to be one of the few here who aren't. You may be a bit of an idiot, but not a loser.'

'Oh. Thanks.'

Sherlock gave him a smile, and John found himself smiling back. 'So who are the other people who're not–' began John, but he was interrupted.

'Excuse me, Mr Watson, but this is my class and _I _am the one who will do the talking,' said Snape icily. 'Ten points from Gryffindor.'

'You hadn't started explaining yet, Professor,' said Sherlock.

Snape turned to him. 'Excuse me?'

'You weren't talking yet, so we thought the lesson hadn't started yet.'

'Then you thought wrong!' snapped Snape, his eyes boring into Sherlock's.

Sherlock looked back calmly, not at all intimidated by Snape. 'I don't think so.'

Snape narrowed his eyes. 'Detention, Mr Holmes.'

Sherlock opened his mouth again, but John stepped on his foot. 'Don't,' he hissed. Sherlock looked angry, but he kept his mouth shut, while Snape began his lesson.

...

'Thanks,' said John when the lesson had ended.

'For what?'

'For standing up for me.'

'That's alright,' mumbled Sherlock.

But John smiled. It seemed he'd made a new friend.

**Thanks for your reviews, guys! And I wouldn't mind some more *hint hint* xD **


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Nervously, John mounted his broom. It was the day of the Quidditch trials and he was going to try out for Seeker. He hadn't made the team last year, but he'd practiced a lot this summer.

His first week at Hogwarts had already passed. John was still surprised at how well Sherlock was settling in. He hadn't made any friends other than John, that was true, but he'd had no difficulties whatsoever in the lessons. _He has to have learned magic somewhere else, _thought John. _No one can immediately do sixth-year spells.  
><em>  
>He'd asked Sherlock if he'd be going to try out for the Slytherin Quidditch team, but Sherlock had laughed. 'Sports? No, thanks.'<p>

As John rose into the air, he looked at all the spectators. To his surprise, he saw Sherlock standing there, staring up at him. John's heart skipped a beat, and he quickly looked away. _Concentrate, John, _he told himself.

'I'll now release the Snitch!' shouted Lestrade, the Quidditch captain. He was hovering over John. His voice was magically magnified so everyone could hear him.

A minute passed, in which John deliberately didn't look at Sherlock again, instead trying to spot the Snitch. 'Go!' shouted Lestrade. John began to fly, looking for a trace of the Snitch. He flew round the field, but didn't see anything, until he spotted something golden in the corner of his eye. He raced towards it, stretching out his arm – and his fingers closed around the Snitch.

The crowd was cheering when he landed, Snitch still in his hand.

'Well done, John!' shouted Lestrade. 'You were the fastest, which means you're the new Gryffindor Seeker!'

'Well done indeed,' said a voice.

John whirled around, then rolled his eyes when he saw it was Sherlock. 'Thanks,' he said. 'D'you fly?'

'Occasionally, yes. It helps me think,' said Sherlock, starting to walk to the Great Hall. 'So when's the next match?'

'Gryffindor against Slytherin? I'm not sure – November, I think. Will you be supporting your House, then?'

Sherlock sniffed. 'All this competition. Can't I be neutral?'

'It doesn't work that way around here.'

'Well, I'll do what I want,' said Sherlock stubbornly as they entered the Great Hall.

'I can believe that,' smiled John, sitting down at the Gryffindor table.

Suddenly all the chatter died away. John frowned, wondering why everyone had stopped talking when he realized Professor Dumbledore had stood up. 'Can I have your attention, please? Yesterday evening I found out the sword of Gryffindor had disappeared. If anyone of you knows where it is, please tell me.' He sat down again.

'It was stolen, obviously,' said Sherlock. John turned around to find he was sitting next to him.

'Sherlock – this is the Gryffindor table!' he said, his eyes wide.

'So what? Am I not allowed to sit here?' Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

'I don't think so.'

'Stupid rule.' Sherlock ignored the Gryffindors around him, who were all staring at him.

'So how d'you know it was stolen?'

'Where else could it have gone?'

'I don't know… Who'd steal the Gryffindor sword?'

'There could be many reasons. Because it's worth a lot of money, because the thief likes stealing…' Sherlock got a strange look in his eyes.

'Oh no!' said John. 'You're not thinking about solving this, are you? Sherlock, we're supposed to _study _at school, not solve mysteries!'

'Who needs to study?' complained Sherlock. 'Mysteries are much more fun.'

'Yeah, but – _you _can't solve this.'

'Do you question my intellect?' asked Sherlock coldly.

'No! I mean, if even the _teachers _don't know who did it–'

Sherlock looked at John calmly. 'Just because they're teachers doesn't mean they're clever.' He got up and walked towards the teacher's table. John quickly followed him. 'What're you going to do?'

Sherlock ignored him and approached the Headmaster. 'Sir?'

Professor Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. 'Ah. The new guy. How is life treating you?'

'Fine, sir. D'you have any idea when the sword was stolen?'

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. 'Why do you want to know?'

'Just… just curious, sir.'

Dumbledore looked at Sherlock and then at John. It felt as if he could see right through him, and John had the idea he knew why Sherlock asked after the sword.  
>'Well, <em>I <em>don't know, but we could ask the portraits,' said Dumbledore after a few seconds.

'The portraits?' asked John, confused.

'The talking portraits in my room,' explained Dumbledore.

'So if there're portraits in your room, why didn't they see the sword being stolen?' asked Sherlock.

'Whoever stole it used Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder,' said Dumbledore, not sounding surprised that Sherlock knew the sword had been stolen. 'Portraits couldn't see a thing. When the powder had disappeared, so had the sword.'

'Are Mr Holmes and Mr Watson bothering you, sir?' said Snape, who was sitting next to Dumbledore.

'Oh no, not at all. Merely offering to help with the theft.'

Snape's eyes narrowed. 'This is a school, Mr Holmes. You're here to study. We'll deal with the theft, so you can concentrate on your classes.'

'I can deal with my classes,' said Sherlock coldly. 'But I believe _you _can't deal with the theft.'

'Excuse me?' hissed Snape angrily.

'Give the boy a break, Severus,' said Dumbledore quickly. He turned to Sherlock and John. 'I believe it's time for you to go to your next lesson. I'll ask the portraits at what time the sword was stolen.'

'Thanks, sir,' said Sherlock through gritted teeth, glaring at Snape.

John grabbed Sherlock's wrist and pulled him away from the teacher's table. 'You don't want to have him as your enemy,' he warned. 'Besides, he's the Head of your House.'

'So what?' hissed Sherlock, looking down at John's hand around his wrist. John quickly let him go. 'Hang on – you've got a free period now, right?'

'How d'you know that?' asked John incredulously.

'I memorized your timetable.'

'You – _what?_' John grinned. 'What'd you do that for?'

'I don't know,' mumbled Sherlock. 'I just did. But that means we can sneak into the Headmaster's office and ask the portraits ourselves!'

'You're not _serious_?'

'Why not?'

'First of all – you don't have a free period, do you?'

Sherlock waved his hand carelessly. 'History of Magic. I can skip that. It's boring anyway.'

John stared at him. 'Screw that, it's still wrong! Sneaking into the Headmaster's office! What if we get caught?'

'We won't,' said Sherlock seriously, his eyes boring into John's.

'How can you be so sure? Dumbledore'll be in there–'

'No, he won't. He's going outside to take a stroll.'

'How d'you know that?'

'He always takes a stroll on Friday in the afternoon. He did it last Friday too.'

'And you know this because…?'

'I observe, John. Professor Sprout was saying, 'I'll see you again in ten minutes!' to the Headmaster, just before we went to speak to him. This afternoon she'll be in Greenhouse Three, because she'll be teaching the first-years. Dumbledore's stroll will probably lead him past the greenhouses.'

John stared at him. 'That's amazing.'

'Will you come, then?'

But John remained standing. 'Why're you asking me to come with you?'

'I don't know. I like to have company.'

'But why _me_?' John looked Sherlock in the eyes, and the tall boy looked back at him.

'Would you rather not come?' he asked softly.

For a moment John found himself unable to speak. Then he blinked. 'No, I'll go. That's cool.'

Sherlock smiled. 'Let's go!'

**Hiya! What d'you think?  
>By the way, ImLostForever asked when this was taking place, which is a good question. It's kind of AU, so there's no Harry Potter at this school, but it does take place when Snape is DADA teacher, so the teachers are the ones Harry had in his sixth year.<br>Hope you understand it now (: **


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

'Damn – we need a password,' said John when they'd arrived at the stone gargoyle. 'Otherwise we can't get in.'

'Passwords? Easy,' said Sherlock, stepping forward. 'Let's think… Acid pops? Cockroach Clusters? Sugar Quill?'

The gargoyle moved aside to let them in. 'That was – how'd you do that?' asked John incredulously.

'Not exactly Fort Knox. Professor Dumbledore was telling Professor MacGonagall how much he liked sweets yesterday,' said Sherlock, stepping into Dumbledore's office. 'She acted like she'd heard him talk about it a thousand times ago. I figured he must really like them.'

'So you realized it was the password to his office?' John shook his head, smiling.

The room they entered was circular, with many windows. The walls were covered in portraits of previous Headmasters. Behind Dumbledore's desk hung the biggest portrait of all, which was of one Armando Dippet. There were also many books, lying on the ground, on the desk and in large book chests that were standing against the wall. Furthermore, there were some spindly tables with silver instruments on them.

'Dumbledore's got a _phoenix_?' asked Sherlock, looking at Fawkes. 'How charming.'

'Excuse me – but what are you boys doing here?' asked the portrait of Armando Dippet.

'Dumbledore sent us,' said Sherlock immediately. 'We're helping him with the case of the stolen sword. So you were here when it happened, but you didn't see it?'

'Hardly our fault, was it?' said another portrait angrily. The name on the bottom of the portrait read Phineas Nigellus. 'The thief used powder to darken the room, then stole the sword!'

'You really didn't see him?' asked John. 'Not even before he used the powder?'

'He wasn't stupid, boy,' sneered Phineas. 'Didn't show himself before it became dark.'

'What time was it when it happened?' asked Sherlock.

'Half past one in the afternoon,' said Armando Dippet. 'Wasn't it?'  
>The other portraits murmured in agreement.<p>

'Good,' said Sherlock, sounding satisfied.

'I don't see how this helps us, Sherlock.'

'Oh, it definitely helps–' Sherlock froze and stared at the door.

'What?' asked John nervously.

'Someone's coming! Hide!'

Both of them looked around to find a place to hide. A cupboard in the corner of the room caught their eye and they rushed over to it.

'If you're really here to help Dumbledore, then why d'you want to hide?' asked Phineas Nigellus suspiciously.

'Don't you dare tell him we're here!' warned Sherlock, pushing John into the cupboard and then joining him, shutting the door behind them.  
>The cupboard was really small and dark, and the two boys were pressed up against each other, but at the moment all they could think about was the person entering the room. It was Dumbledore.<p>

'That's just _great_,' whispered John sarcastically. 'He could stay in his room the whole afternoon, and we're stuck in here.'

'Shh!' Sherlock whispered back urgently.

He peered through the keyhole of the cupboard and saw Dumbledore sitting down behind his desk, shuffling through some papers.

'In case you were wondering, Headmaster, there's no way anyone's hiding in this room,' Phineas Nigellus said. 'You're completely alone.'

'I never thought there was anyone, Phineas,' said Dumbledore, a twinkle in his eyes. 'You know what, I'll just go to the library. I have to look up something…' He stood up and left the room.

John could feel Sherlock's breath in his neck and he shivered. 'Is it safe?'

'I think so,' replied Sherlock, opening the cupboard door. They stumbled out of it, squinting as their eyes adjusted to the bright light.

'I'm glad no one saw that,' said John.

'What?'

'You and me together in a cupboard. People might talk.'

'They do little else.' Sherlock smiled.

'You do realize Dumbledore probably knew we were here, didn't you?'

'It's strange,' Sherlock admitted. 'But why didn't he open the cupboard door?'

'Because he's a strange man. And a good one.'

'Well, I know whose fault it is he knew we were there,' said Sherlock, glaring at Phineas.

'What?' the portrait asked innocently. 'I didn't tell him you were here! In fact, I even told him you _weren't _here.'

'At least we found what we wanted to know,' said Sherlock, as he and John left Dumbledore's office. 'The thief came in at half past one.'

'Why did you want to know that, anyway?'

'Alibis.'

'What?'

'Alibis. Everyone who was in class at half past one wasn't the thief.'

'That's _genius_!' exclaimed John. 'The list of possible thieves will be a lot shorter!'

'Exactly.' Sherlock smiled.

...

Next day, when John was having breakfast, Sherlock approached him. 'I checked all time tables and the only class that didn't have class at half past one yesterday were the Hufflepuff third-years,' he said.

'So it has to be one of them! Unless it's a teacher, of course,' John added as an afterthought.

But Sherlock shook his head. 'I also checked for people who weren't in class, and there were quite a few.'

'I suppose they were ill,' shrugged John. 'It happens quite a lot at Hogwarts. Duels, Potions, Quidditch – a lot can happen.'

'I know, but we've got to check the people who were absent, too. So I figured we should visit Madam Pomfrey and ask if the students who were absent really were in the Hospital Wing.'

'Smart,' nodded John. 'As long as we're not skipping classes again.'

Sherlock sighed. 'Dull. Oh well, we can go when the lessons have ended. Happy?'

...

'Yes, Dimmock was definitely here,' said Madam Pomfrey. 'Got hit by a Bludger, the poor boy.'

'So it wasn't him,' said John, crossing off Dimmock's name on the list of absentees.

'What about Robbie Smith?' asked Sherlock.

'He's still here,' said Madam Pomfrey, pointing at a first-year Ravenclaw boy with a green skin. 'What's happened to him?' asked John.

'He doesn't even know himself. He's been in here for a week, but I just can't seem to find the cure. I might have to send him to St Mungo's,' said Madam Pomfrey anxiously.

John crossed off Robbie Smith. 'The last one… Jeff Stevens.'

Madam Pomfrey frowned. 'No, he definitely wasn't here. Third-year Slytherin, isn't he?'

'Yes, I think so,' said John. 'I hardly know him.'

'What's he like?' asked Sherlock.

'Mean,' said John. 'Not very bright, though. I wonder where he got the idea to steal the sword – if he really did it. He could've just been skipping classes.'

'Only one way to find out, isn't there?' said Sherlock, flashing John a smile that made John's heart skip a beat.

'What's that, then?'

'We ask him.'

**Whee :D A mystery for Sherlock ^^  
>So yeah, I'm putting some Sherlock quotes in here. Like the 'people might talk' thing :P. And 'not exactly Fort Nox'. And the cabbie's name was Jeff, wasn't it?<br>Hope you like this chapter, and feel free to leave a review! **


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

'What are you planning to ask?' said John. He and Sherlock were sitting on the grass in the Transfiguration Courtyard, waiting for the bell to ring. Both of them had a free period, and they'd gone to the courtyard because Jeff Stevens was in Transfiguration class at the moment. John had brought his Potions homework with him, but he'd hardly written a sentence. Instead, he'd enjoyed the weather with Sherlock, who wasn't doing any homework either.

The bell rang and the door of the Transfiguration classroom opened. A group of thirteen-year olds left the room. 'That's him,' said John, pointing at a small, stupid-looking boy with glasses.

'Hello.' Sherlock smiled at the boy. 'Could we have a word with you?'

'Sure,' said Jeff. 'What about?'

'Have you heard about the theft of the sword of Gryffindor?'

'Oh, yeah – Dumbledore told us about it yesterday, didn't he?' said Jeff. 'I wonder who did it…'

'You don't know, then?'

'No, I don't. Otherwise I would've told Dumbledore.'

Sherlock nodded thoughtfully. 'Very well. Thanks, Jeff.'

'No problem.' Jeff walked away.

'He seemed innocent enough,' noted John.

'No, he didn't,' said Sherlock at once. 'When I mentioned the theft of Gryffindor, he didn't even blink.'

'Of course he didn't. Like he said, Dumbledore told us about it yesterday.'

'No, he didn't. He told the sword had gone _missing, _not that it'd been stolen. Jeff didn't seem surprised that it was stolen, though.'

'You're right!' realized John. 'We've got him!'

'Not really,' disagreed Sherlock. 'We need proof.'

'How're we going to find proof? See if he owns Peruvian powder?'

Sherlock looked at him. 'Think, John.'

'Oh, right! We have to find the sword!'

'Exactly.'

'But how d'you want to find the sword? He doesn't just wear it on his belt or something. He's not _that _stupid.'

'No,' mused Sherlock. 'So where'd he leave it?'

'His dormitory?'

'Nah. He wouldn't dare do that, in fear of being discovered. _Where _could he hide the sword? It has to be somewhere people can't find it, somewhere secret–'

'The Room of Requirement!' exclaimed John.

'The _what_?'

'The Room of Requirement. It's a room that only appears when one is in great need of it. It transforms into whatever you want it to be.'

'That's brilliant, John! I knew you had it in you!' Sherlock looked at John fondly.

John smiled at the unexpected praise. 'Oh well, it's nothing.'

'No, it's really good! I can see why I like you. So where's this room?'

...

'So you just walk past the wall three times and think about what you want. And that'd be?'

'The place where everything is hidden, I think. Everything's hidden there.'

'Yeah, I figured it might be.' Sherlock began pacing past the wall, thinking hard. When he'd passed the wall three times, he looked up to find a large door had appeared. He opened the door and stepped inside an enormous room filled with all sorts of different objects: broken and damaged furniture, bottles filled with Potions, an axe, a Vanishing Cabinet, books and much more. 'Messy in here,' Sherlock noted. 'How're we every going to find it?'

'Summoning Charm?' suggested John.

'I'm afraid that won't work,' said Sherlock pleasantly.

Stubborn as he was, John tried anyway, but nothing happened.

'Told you so,' said Sherlock, looking amused. He began walking through the room, picking up various objects and studying them. John looked around, too. 'Got it!' shouted Sherlock after a few minutes.

John followed his voice to find Sherlock carrying a long sword with a silver blade and rubies on the handle. 'It's beautiful,' he mumbled.

'Quite,' agreed Sherlock. 'The question is, how can we prove it was Jeff who stole it?'

Suddenly, they heard a noise. Quickly, they dived behind a heap of objects. Sherlock let go of the sword, which clattered on to the ground.

'–asked me to see if it's safe, as if I'm his _servant_–' the person entering the room was muttering. With a shock, John realized it was Jeff. It was a good thing they'd decided to hide.  
>'Where's that damn–? Oh, there it is.' John could hear Jeff pick up the sword and he looked at Sherlock, who was pulling out his wand.<p>

'What're you doing?'

'Trust me,' whispered Sherlock with such intensity that John didn't question him and just watched as he pointed his wand at Jeff and yelled, '_Epoximise_!'

'What the–? _Holmes!_'

'That's me,' said Sherlock calmly, appearing from behind the heap of objects. John followed him.

'And Watson, too,' sneered Jeff. 'What a couple you make.' He was still clutching the sword with both his hands, but it looked as if he was trying to let go, but he couldn't –  
>Then it hit John. <em>Epoxomise<em> – that was a Sticking Charm. Sherlock had glued Jeff's hands to the sword.

'So you found out it was me,' said Jeff. 'Very clever. But how're you going to prove that?'

'Very simple,' said Sherlock. 'We'll bring you to Dumbledore, and he'll catch you red-handed with the sword.'

'I won't let you!'

'I don't think you can do anything. Both your hands are glued to the sword, so you can't use your wand. What're you going to do, yell at us?'

'I'll fight you with the sword!'

Sherlock rolled his eyes. 'Dull. _Petrificus Totalus!_'

Jeff froze and fell to the ground, the sword still glued to his hands. 'Let's hand him in,' said Sherlock. 'You carry the head, I'll take the feet.'

'Why do _I _have to carry the head?' complained John, but he took hold of Jeff's frozen body and together they began carrying it down to Dumbledore's office.

...

'So Jeff Stevens was our thief,' mumbled Dumbledore.

'Are you going to expel him?' asked Sherlock hopefully.

'Not yet. But I'll be watching him carefully, and I'll write to his parents. Also, he'll be given detention.'

'Something wrong, Sherlock?' asked John, looking at Sherlock's frowning face.

'It's just… Did you hear what Jeff said when he entered the Room of Requirement? He mentioned someone else, someone who told him to check on the sword. He was working for someone.'

'What – another student?'

'I think so. We have to catch him!'

'That won't be too easy, I'm afraid,' said Dumbledore gravely. 'He seems to have covered all his traces.'

Sherlock balled his fists. 'Oh, I'll find him. Don't you worry.'

**Thanks for the kind reviews!  
>I'm having a great time writing this, I love combining two things I like: Sherlock and Harry Potter :P<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

'That was _amazing! _So you caught him? You actually caught him?' a fifth-year Slytherin asked Sherlock eagerly.

Sherlock and John were sitting in the library, wanting to do some homework, but this boy just wouldn't leave them alone. He kept stalking Sherlock.

'Yes, I caught him! Now, could you please leave us alone?' snapped Sherlock.

'Okay,' said the boy, not at all looking offended. 'You're so smart, though, like a detective–'

'_Go away!_'

The boy hurried away.

'Don't you think you were being a bit rude?' said John with a smile.

Sherlock looked at him and raised an eyebrow. 'Me, rude? That guy keeps following me! Who is he, anyway?'

'I think he's called Jim Moriarty. He seems to adore you.' John grinned.

'Oh, great. As if I need a fan.'

'Don't you like it? The fame?'

'The Gryffindors glaring at me? Oddly enough, not really. It pisses me off.'

'Well, that's straightforward,' said John. 'At least I'm not glaring at you.'

'No,' agreed Sherlock, his cold eyes boring into John's. 'You're not. That's good.'

John looked down at his Defence Against the Dark Arts essay and sighed. 'I'm useless.'

'I'll do it for you,' offered Sherlock.

John snorted. '_You? _You haven't even opened your book yet.'

'I can do without the book,' said Sherlock. He looked so serious John believed him.

'No. I can't let you do my homework. It'd be unfair.'

'Well, if you'd hurry up we could do something fun.'

'Something fun? Like?'

'I don't know. Sneak into the Restricted Section?'

John looked around at Madam Pince, who was eyeing them suspiciously. 'Impossible.'

'Nothing's impossible.'

'How d'you want to get past _her_? Unless you've got an Invisibility Cloak, I don't think it's possible.'

'I don't have an Invisibility Cloak,' said Sherlock. 'But we don't need one. We can go in the middle of the night.'

'Are you _kidding _me? They'll find us and we'll be in so much trouble!'

'Nonsense,' sniffed Sherlock. 'We'll be careful.'

'Why d'you want to go to the Restricted Section in the middle of the night?'

'Because I'm bored,' sighed Sherlock.

'You want to risk getting expelled because you're bored?'

'Wouldn't be exciting without the risks,' said Sherlock, flashing a smile. 'Well, you can choose for yourself of course. But _I_'m going anyway. You can't stop me.'

John glared at him, then banged his fist on the table. 'Dammit. Fine, I'll go.'

Sherlock actually looked happy, which made John's heart race a little faster. 'Excellent. Meet me in the library at midnight.'

...

Very quietly, John got out of his bed. He looked down at the others, who were fast asleep. He tiptoed out of the room. _I'm crazy, _he kept thinking to himself, but he couldn't help but feel excited.

The common room was deserted. John hastily left the room, making his way to the library. 'Oi! Where're you going?' the Fat Lady shouted, but he paid her no attention.

He'd just gone down some marble stairs when he heard a cackling sound. Quickly, he dived behind a suit of armour. A few seconds later, he saw Peeves zooming by. When he was sure the poltergeist was gone, he continued walking.

When he arrived in the library, Sherlock was already there. 'Oh, there you are. I thought you wouldn't come.'

'Shh,' said John. 'This is a library, you're supposed to whisper.'

Sherlock grinned. 'Good one.'

They made their way past the bookshelves to the Restricted Section. As they entered it, John felt excitement rising in his chest. He looked up at Sherlock, who looked just as excited as he was. 'So what exactly _is _in the Restricted Section?' asked the tall boy, looking around at the books. 'I mean, what's the difference with the normal library?'

John shrugged. 'We're not supposed to know about the subjects in these books, I think.'

'_Lumos!_' said Sherlock. A faint light appeared at the end of his wand. He used it to look at the books, then randomly pulled one out and opened it.

'AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!'

Shocked, Sherlock let go of the book. It fell on to the ground and kept screaming. 'What the–?' said Sherlock.

'Students! Students in the Restricted Section!'

'It's the caretaker,' whispered John urgently. 'Mrs. Hudson! She's not that bad, but we'll still be in trouble if we're discovered.'

'Then let's not be discovered,' decided Sherlock. 'Quickly – behind this book chest!'

'Why does going somewhere with you always result in hiding?' hissed John as they dived behind the book chest.

Sherlock shrugged. 'If you don't like it, you could stay away from me.'

John looked at him and saw Sherlock looked slightly hurt. 'No,' he said quickly. 'I didn't mean that. I couldn't possible stay away from you. Besides, the good things outweigh the bad ones.'

Sherlock looked at John and his eyes burned with such intensity that John's stomach did a somersault. Before Sherlock could say something, however, they heard footsteps and they froze.

'–maybe it was just Peeves,' they heard Mrs. Hudson mutter.

'Is there a problem, Mrs. Hudson?' a cold voice suddenly said. John and Sherlock looked at each other, recognizing the voice. It was Snape.

'Oh no, Severus, I'm sorry,' said Mrs. Hudson. 'I thought I heard something, but I may have imagined it. It could've been Peeves.'

'It wasn't Peeves,' disagreed Snape. 'I met him on the way here, but he didn't come from here. It has to be a student.'

'Come now, who'd go to the Restricted Section in the middle of the night?'

'Perhaps someone who feels school isn't interesting enough,' said Snape softly, and John swore he knew it was them. 'Someone who considers himself smarter than us teachers.'

They heard him approaching the book chest they were hiding behind and they held their breaths. John closed his eyes, sure he was going to find them, when he felt a trickling sensation going down his body. It was like a raw egg had been broken on his head. He looked up to find Snape looking at them – but not seeing them.

'Well, there's no one there,' said Mrs. Hudson.

'I can see that,' snapped Snape. 'Then where are they?'

'They could've fled.'

'Perhaps…' Snape took one last look at the pair of them, then turned around and walked away. Mrs. Hudson followed him.

Suddenly, the trickling sensation disappeared. John looked at Sherlock confusedly. 'Why didn't he see us?'

'I used a Disillusionment Charm,' said Sherlock, 'so we became invisible.'

'You performed a nonverbal spell? But we've only just started that subject!' exclaimed John.

Sherlock shrugged. 'It's easy, really.'

'Let's get out of here,' John decided. 'I've had enough adventure for tonight.'

**It took me some time to get this chapter up, but here it is! Hope you like it (:  
>I'll get some more storyline in later. I just wanted them having a bit of fun in this chapter xD.<br>I'm going to Berlin with school the next few days, so I won't be updating till Saturday or something. **


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Weeks passed, and John progressed greatly in his lessons. True, he wasn't as good as Sherlock, but that was simply impossible. The mysterious boy was amazing: John almost never saw him doing homework, yet he always got high grades in class. Some people hated him for it, but John didn't mind. He noticed the other Gryffindors didn't seem to like him spending time with Sherlock, but he ignored that. He was allowed to befriend whoever he wanted to be friends with.

...

It was a cold November morning and John was changing into his Quidditch robes. The Gryffindor team had trained a lot the past weeks, but John wasn't sure if they were good enough to beat Slytherin. Still, he tried to look calm.

Lestrade seemed to look right through him, though. 'Nervous, huh? Don't worry, you'll be fine. You're an amazing Seeker!'

This didn't make John feel any better. When Madam Hooch blew the whistle, he slowly followed the other Gryffindors on to the field. He automatically scanned the crowd, searching for Sherlock amongst the Slytherins. His eyes widened when he saw his friends. He wasn't the only one who was staring at the tall, pale boy. Sherlock was wearing red clothes. He was like a small red spot in the middle of a crowd of green Slytherins, who were all looking at him angrily. When he saw John he smiled mysteriously, making John grin like an idiot. Suddenly, the nerves had disappeared. He was going to do this.

'Players in position!' shouted Madam Hooch. John mounted his broom. 'Go!'

John kicked off and zoomed into the sky, looking around to see if he could see the Snitch. He rose into the air so he was higher than the other players and looked down at them.  
>'There they go! Roberts has the Quaffle and he's approaching the Slytherin goals… But of course he misses. Can't see a thing, can he?' Anderson shouted into the microphone. 'And there goes Richards, he's getting closer to the goalposts – and Lestrade makes a safe! Yay and all that!'<p>

John rolled his eyes at Anderson's sarcastic voice and looked at the crowd, to find the red spot among the green looking at him. He smiled and momentarily forgot about the game.  
>This was a mistake. BAM! A Bludger bumped into John, making him clutch his leg. 'Ow,' he muttered, quickly flying over to the other side of the pitch. <em>Okay, I'm not looking at Sherlock again<em>, he told himself.

This wasn't easy, but he forced himself to search for the Snitch again. Suddenly, he saw a tiny speck of gold near the Slytherin goalposts. He hastily spurred his broom, but he noticed the Slytherin Seeker did the same.

When he and the Slytherin Seeker were only a few meters away from the Snitch, John recognized him. It was Moriarty, Sherlock's fan.

He spurred on his broom and extended his arm. His fingers hovered a few centimeters from the small golden ball, but Moriarty knocked his arm out of the way and made a grab for the Snitch. His fingers just missed it. John extended his arm again, and he felt his fingers close around the cold ball. 'I've got it!' he shouted, holding the Snitch over his head. Cheering erupted from the Gryffindors in the crowd, while the Slytherins groaned. John looked at Moriarty and for a moment he was shocked to see an almost _murderous _expression on his face.

Then John's eyes moved to the crowd, and he saw Sherlock was beaming at him. He immediately forgot about Moriarty.

'You did it! _You did it! _I _knew _you were amazing!' shouted Lestrade when John landed on the ground. 'That was brilliant, Watson!'

But John's attention was elsewhere. Ten meters away from him, he saw a tall Slytherin punching Sherlock in the gut.

Without thinking he started running, pulling out his wand. '_Stupefy!_'

The Slytherin fell back and John rushed over to Sherlock. 'Are you okay? Did he hurt you?'

'I'm fine, John,' said Sherlock hoarsely.

'Don't you lie to me! There's a cut on your lip and you've got a bruised eye! You need to go to the Hospital Wing!'

'I'm not going there,' said Sherlock immediately. 'I can heal this myself. It's not that bad.' He wanted to pull out his wand, but John stopped him.

'Let me do it.' He pointed his wand at Sherlock's face. '_Episkey!_' He stepped back and nodded. 'That's better. So what'd he do that for?'

'Isn't it obvious? Clearly, he didn't think Slytherins should wear red.'

'Well, he has a point,' said John.

'I can wear whatever colour I want to wear,' said Sherlock coldly.

John grinned. 'You're impossible.'

Sherlock raised his eyebrows, looking hurt.

'I mean impossible in a good way,' said John hastily.

'Well, that's good, I suppose,' said Sherlock slowly. 'I don't suppose you feel like any more flying today?'

John frowned. 'What d'you mean?'

'I've got a free period, so I thought I'd take out my broom for a bit. Want to join me?'

John smiled. 'Sure! I'd love to see you fly. Are you any good?'

'Prepare to be amazed,' said Sherlock. '_Accio broom!_'

After a minute, a Firebolt came swooshing their way. Sherlock mounted it. 'Ready?'

'You've got a _Firebolt_?' asked John, amazed. He had a Nimbus 2000 and he was very proud of it, but a Firebolt was even better.

'Obviously,' answered Sherlock, kicking off. They both rose so high they could look down at the castle. The wind blowing through his hair, Sherlock looked pretty good. John shook his head. Why was he thinking about that?

'Want to do a race?' asked Sherlock. 'Three rounds around the castle.'

'You've got a Firebolt. It's hardly fair, isn't it?' said John.

Sherlock pointed his wand at his broom and muttered a spell. 'What'd you do?' asked John.

'I enchanted it so it's as fast as your Nimbus. Fair?'

'You're so going to lose,' grinned John.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. 'We'll see. One… two… three… GO!'

Both of them zoomed forward. John had to admit, Sherlock was _good. _He flew through the air gracefully and with enormous speed. John had difficulty keeping up, but he wasn't going to let Sherlock win _that _easily. He pressed on and gained on his friend, until he and Sherlock were neck and neck.  
>After three rounds, John and Sherlock finished simultaneously. They returned to the ground. 'You're brilliant,' said John, impressed. 'I don't understand why you didn't try for the Slytherin team.'<p>

'Like I told you before, I don't like sports. People are way too competitive over nothing.'

'I suppose you're right,' said John as they started walking back to the castle.

'So… we're going to be allowed to go to Hogsmeade the weekend before Christmas, aren't we?' asked Sherlock.

'Yeah! That's not too far away from now.'

'D'you want to go with me?'

'Sure,' grinned John. 'Have you ever been to Hogsmeade before?'

'No. I've heard about it, though.'

'You won't be disappointed.'

**I'm really busy, what with school and all, but I managed to get this chapter up (: Enjoy it!  
>Btw, I got a lot of e-mails saying someone subscribed to my story the last few days and they never failed to make me smile, so thank you! <strong>


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

'–the First Wizarding War, obviously,' Professor Binns droned on. John was staring at the wall, thinking about Hogsmeade. It was the day before their trip, and he was really excited. The weather had changed rapidly over the past days: the grounds were covered with snow and it was freezing. He was sure he'd have to wear warm clothes to Hogsmeade, but he didn't mind.

'_John_!' Sarah, who was sitting next to him, whispered.

John looked up. 'What is it?'

'D'you want to go to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow?'

'I'm sorry, I can't. I'm already going with Sherlock.'

When he saw Sarah's expression, he quickly added, 'Just as friends, you know.'

'Don't you think you're spending too much time with him?' she answered, looking hurt.

'We're friends,' said John immediately. 'What's wrong with that?'

'Sometimes it seems you've forgotten about us Gryffindors.'

John felt himself getting angry. _What, just because they were in the same House meant they had to be friends? _He sighed, but didn't speak and tried to pay attention to Professor Binns. Soon, however, he found his mind wandering again.

...

The next day, he and Sherlock met in the Entrance Hall and made their way to Hogsmeade. 'I didn't actually get my parents to sign the permission form, so I did it myself,' said Sherlock matter-of-factly as they entered the village. 'I just forged their signature.'

John stared at him. 'And they bought it?'

'I'm very good.'

'Why didn't your parents sign the form, though?'

Sherlock didn't answer. 'So where shall we go?' he asked instead.

'Honeydukes is brilliant,' said John. 'It's a sweets shop.'

'Sweets? Dull,' said Sherlock immediately.

'…Okay. What about Zonko's?'

'What's that?'

'It's a joke shop.'

'Might as well have a look.'

They visited Zonko's, where John secretly bought a chess set as a Christmas present for Sherlock. Then they went to Tomes and Scrolls, the book shop.  
>'D'you want to see the Shrieking Shack?' asked John when they left the shop.<p>

'The what?'

'It's said to be the most haunted building in Britain.'

'Haunted.' Sherlock snorted. 'What's supposed to be in that building, then?'

'I don't know, but I've heard villagers used to hear scary noises coming from it. Not anymore, though.'

They went to the Shack and looked at it for a while. 'Doesn't seem haunted to me,' said Sherlock.

'Then how d'you explain the noises?' asked John, his teeth clattering. It was freezing, but Sherlock didn't look like he was bothered by the cold at all.  
>Sherlock looked at his friend. 'There are ghosts flying around Hogwarts all the time, yet you don't call Hogwarts haunted, do you? So how would you define "haunted", then?'<p>

John stared at him. 'You've got a point,' he admitted. 'But there has to be _something _making those noises.'

Sherlock shrugged. 'It could be a ghost, of course. Or a wild animal. We can only guess.' He saw John was shivering. 'Are you cold? Here, have my coat.' He shrugged out of it and handed it to John, who stared at him.

'You're taking off your coat for me? Keep it, I don't want you to catch a cold because of me!'

'I'm fine, John.'

'No, you're not,' said John immediately. 'You know what? Let's have a drink somewhere. A Butterbeer would warm me up.'

...

'I like Hogsmeade,' Sherlock decided when they were both sitting in the Three Broomsticks, drinking their Butterbeer. 'When's the next time we're allowed to visit?'

'In February, I think,' said John.

'So Sarah asked you too, didn't she?'

'How d'you know that?'

'I overheard her talking to Mike.'

'Yes, she did.'

'And you turned her down for me?'

'Well, I'd already said yes, hadn't I?' John said uncomfortably. 'Anyway, you're good company. Things between me and Sarah are… awkward.'

'You're good company too,' said Sherlock, sipping his Butterbeer.

John couldn't help but smile.

...

The Christmas holidays had started, and a lot of people had gone home. John remained at Hogwarts, because his parents were going on holiday, and Sherlock stayed, too.  
>On Christmas morning, John was lying in his bed. His dormitory was deserted: all his roommates had gone home. He slowly opened his eyes, wondering what had awakened him. He sat up and looked around – to find Sherlock sitting on the bed next to him, watching him.<p>

'Sherlock!' he shouted, shocked. 'What're you _doing _here?'

'I was just going to give you your Christmas present,' shrugged Sherlock, showing him a package.

'How'd you get in here?'

'It wasn't hard to guess the password.'

'Didn't anyone see you?'

'Everyone's still asleep.'

'You're lucky my roommates aren't here,' John said. 'Hang on – I've got a present for you too!' He reached inside his suitcase and pulled out the chess set he'd bought in Zonko's. It was wrapped in purple paper.

He handed it to Sherlock, who quickly unwrapped it. 'That's brilliant!' he exclaimed. 'Is it magic? With moving chess pieces?'

'Of course.'

'Thanks! Here's your present.' He gave it to John, who unwrapped it. It was _Quidditch Through The Ages._

'How'd you know I wanted this?'

Sherlock shrugged. 'I guessed.'

'Thanks so much!' John got out of bed and hugged Sherlock. When he pulled back, he saw Sherlock was looking rather shocked. 'Not good?' he asked nervously.

'No… no, it's fine.' Sherlock smiled. 'It's just… I've never been hugged before.'

'_Never_?' asked John incredulously. 'Not even by your parents? Or your brother?'

'No.'

'Why not?'

'Because I won't let them.'

'… But you let me.'

'Yes.'

For a moment they stood there, awkwardly facing each other. 'Let's go down to breakfast,' John decided at last.  
>Sherlock nodded and they left the room.<p>

**Okay, I know I took way too long updating this and I'm sorry! I haven't been online at all for a long time, I don't even know why. But here's another chapter for you.. And I promise the next one won't take so long (:**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

'The _Forbidden Forest? _But it's forbidden!'

'Is it now?' said Sherlock, feigning surprise. 'I didn't know that!'

The two of them were sitting in Dark Against The Dark Arts class and were whispering to each other as Snape was explaining something.

John shook his head. 'What is it you like about doing things that aren't allowed?'

'Everything's boring. You might as well have some fun. Are you coming with me?'

'Tonight? But–'

'Something you'd like to share, Mr Watson?' Snape interrupted them.

'No, sir,' said John quickly.

'No? I'd like to know what you were talking about,' said Snape smoothly.

'Er…' began John, not sure what to say, but Sherlock interrupted him.

'We were merely discussing non-verbal spells, sir.'

Snape raised his eyebrows. 'Were you now? It doesn't matter what you were talking about: you're not allowed to speak while I'm talking.' When he turned back to explaining, Sherlock made a face, then scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to John. _You in?  
><em>John thought for a moment, then answered. _What the hell – why not?_

_..._

So, that night, he sneaked out of the common room for the second time that year. 'What am I even doing?' he muttered to himself while he made his way to the Entrance Hall, where he'd agreed to meet Sherlock. But he also felt kind of flattered that Sherlock wanted him to come.  
>He met up with Sherlock in the Entrance Hall. 'So how're we getting outside?' asked John. 'The door's locked. <em>Alohomora!<em>' he tried, but nothing happened.

'It's not quite that simple,' said Sherlock. 'Well – actually, it is. It's too simple, really. That's why no one's thought of it.'

'What the hell are you talking about?'

Sherlock pulled a hairpin from his pocket and put it in the keyhole. He began fumbling with it, until the door sprang open. John stared at him. 'No way.'

'Yes way.' Sherlock opened the door. 'After you.'

John went outside, shivering when he felt the cold air touching his skin. Sherlock immediately noticed and shrugged out his coat, handing it to John.  
>'Sherlock, you don't have to–'<p>

'I insist, John. I don't want you turning into a popsicle.'

Sighing, John accepted and put on the coat. It was really warm and smelled like Sherlock. John inhaled the scent and looked up to find Sherlock looking at him. He looked amused. 'Ready?'

They quickly made their way past Hagrid's hut to the Forbidden Forest. It looked dark and mysterious. Leaves were rustling and John thought he heard a wolf howling. He shivered and wrapped Sherlock's coat tighter around him.

'Not too scary for you, is it?' asked Sherlock, smirking.

'Nothing's too scary for me,' said John, sounding more brave than he felt. He'd heard about the creatures that were roaming around in the Forest and didn't feel like meeting them. Still, he wasn't going to admit this to Sherlock. So he followed his friend into the woods.  
>'<em>Lumos!<em>' he whispered. A light appeared at the far end of his wand, and he used it to find his way through the trees. Sherlock did the same.

'Going somewhere?' a voice suddenly said. Sherlock and John both froze, then looked around to see where the voice came from. Snape stepped from behind a tree, sneering. 'I already thought I heard you talking about the Forest in my lesson. Come with me, Holmes, Watson.'

John looked at Sherlock and shrugged. They followed Snape back to the castle. John felt really desperate. They were sure to get punishment.  
>When they arrived in the Entrance Hall, they were met by an angry-looking Professor MacGonagall. 'What's this? Holmes, Watson, what're you doing here? Snape, can you explain this?'<p>

'I found them in the Forbidden Forest,' said Snape.

'_What?_ What on earth were you doing there?'

Sherlock shrugged. 'Nothing, really.'

Professor MacGonagall looked angrier than John had ever seen her. 'Watson, you should know better. You've been at this school for six years. And you–' She turned to Sherlock. 'Accepting you to Hogwarts while you've missed the first five years was an exception. Don't' make me regret agreeing with Dumbledore. Fifty points from Gryffindor and Slytherin.'  
>Snape didn't look happy about this. He'd probably wanted to prevent taking points from Slytherin, as it was his House, but MacGonagall didn't care one way or another. 'And you've got detention every night in the Transfiguration classroom.'<p>

Sherlock groaned.

'Anything you'd like to say, Holmes?' asked MacGonagall, her lips pressed together in a straight line.

'Nothing, Professor,' muttered Sherlock.

'Then please return to your dormitories.'

...

The next day, the Gryffindors first discovered the loss of House points. 'What the hell? We had more yesterday!' exclaimed Lestrade.

'How come?' wondered Mike.

When they found out it'd been John's fault, they became angry. 'Why'd you have to go with that freak Holmes anyway?' demanded Mike.

'He's not a freak! We were just–'

But the other Gryffindors had turned away from him. Even Sarah looked angry as she passed him without stopping to talk.

Sherlock was having an equally hard time. He'd never liked the Slytherins anyway, but he didn't like being hated by them. Some Slytherins just ignored him, but others tried to curse him. It was a good thing he was good at magic: he'd managed to fend off a few attacks.

John wanted to be angry with Sherlock, but found he couldn't. Besides, he was the only person who wasn't angry with him. Of course there were the Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuffs, who didn't mind, but all of John's friends hated him. Sherlock and he were in this together, and they spent more time together than ever. During lessons, John kept glancing at the clock, wanting to see Sherlock again. When the bell would finally ring, he'd rush over to the corridor, where Sherlock would be waiting for him.

As January turned into February, the Gryffindors forgot all about the loss of House points, but John still spent most of his time with Sherlock, and the other Gryffindors _did _blame him for that. Sarah didn't try to talk to him anymore, for which he was somewhat grateful. He didn't mind her, but he wasn't in love with her anymore, like he'd been last year. He'd had a secret crush on her since his first year, but had only dared to speak to her in his fifth year.

So when the next Hogsmeade trip approached, she didn't ask him to go with her. He didn't want to go alone, so he decided to ask Sherlock, who happily agreed. John was really looking forward to the trip, feeling he needed to get away from his lessons.

When he woke up on the day of the trip, he quickly pulled on his clothes and rushed downstairs to the Great Hall, where he met up with Sherlock.

**That was pretty fast, wasn't it?  
><strong>**My Christmas holidays will start next week, so I'll have a lot of time to write then (: **


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

'A Butterbeer, please,' said John.

'The same for me,' said Sherlock.

The waiter nodded and walked off. John and Sherlock were sitting in the Three Broomsticks, after having walked around Hogsmeade. They'd visited Honeydukes, which Sherlock had classified as "dull" and they'd been to Zonko's. Both of them were tired, which was why they'd decided to go to the Three Broomsticks.

'Didn't Sarah ask you this time?' asked Sherlock.

'No. I guess she's angry at me.'

'Why? Still because of the loss of House points?'

'No, I think it's because I'm spending too much time with you.' John grinned.

'Maybe you should spend less time with me, then,' said Sherlock, trying to sound casual.

'Do you want me to?' asked John, hurt.

'No,' said Sherlock quickly. 'No, I didn't mean that! I just meant – if you wanted to spend more time with your fellow Gryffindors, that'd be okay with me.'

John shrugged. 'I like being with you. I guess you're my best friend.'

Sherlock blinked at this, and it seemed he didn't know what to say. 'Thanks,' he said at last. 'You're my best friend, too. My only friend.'

'Don't you have any friends outside of Hogwarts?'

'I don't make friends easily. People tend to find me annoying. I'm not very good with people.'

'I don't find you annoying,' John pointed out.

'Yes, but you're special,' said Sherlock, looking at John intently.

John blushed and looked away. 'It's good to have a free day, isn't it?' he said, watching the other people sitting in the pub. It was very crowded: Hogwarts students were sitting everywhere. No one paid the two boys sitting by the window any attention.

'Hmm,' answered Sherlock. It was clear he wasn't listening to what John was saying. When John looked up at him, he saw Sherlock was still staring at him. He looked back, but Sherlock didn't look away. John found himself getting lost in those intense blue eyes and his heart raced. He felt butterflies flying around in his stomach. He leaned forward unconsciously until their faces were only inches apart. He felt Sherlock's breath in his face, making him feel light-headed. He closed his eyes and–

'Two Butterbeers?'

John started and looked up at the waiter standing next to him. 'Er… yes. That's for us. Thanks.' His face was burning as the waiter placed the Butterbeers on the table and departed. He didn't dare look at Sherlock and instead stared at his Butterbeer. What had just happened? Thinking about it, he realized he really liked Sherlock. Maybe as more than just a friend. Sherlock seemed to be the only one he could relate with. Sherlock was special, strange, mysterious – and John loved him for it.

When he looked back up, Sherlock was pretending to casually observe the other students in the pub, but John knew he was thinking about what had just happened. He didn't know what to say, so he also pretended to look at the other students.

'What time is it?' asked Sherlock after ten minutes.

John looked at his watch. 'Late. I think we'd better get back to the castle. I've still got some Potions homework to do…'

'I can help you with that,' smiled Sherlock.

...

'What'd he want?' asked John when Sherlock left the Potions classroom. They'd just had Potions, but Slughorn had asked Sherlock to stay behind to discuss something. John had waited outside the classroom.

A few days had passed since the Hogsmeade trip, and they hadn't talked about it anymore. John found himself thinking about Sherlock even more than usual these days, and these thoughts were always accompanied with butterflies in his stomach.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. 'Ever since we solved the Gryffindor sword case, he's adored me. He doesn't even seem to realize you helped me. He just told me he was going to hold a party next week and he invited me.' He snorted. 'And I have to bring a _date_.'

'Who're you taking?' asked John, trying to sound nonchalant.

'No one, of course. I'm not even sure I'm going. I don't like parties. Still, it'll be difficult to get out of this. Slughorn even said he'd move the party to make sure I could come.'

'Wow,' said John. 'He must really like you.'

'Maybe I should just go alone,' mumbled Sherlock as they made their way to the Great Hall. 'I hope he'll be okay with that.'

John felt relieved. 'Yeah, you do that. I wish I was invited, though.'

'I could tell Slughorn you helped me a lot with the case. Maybe he'll invite you, too.'

John shrugged. 'Oh, well.'

'Hang on.' Sherlock stopped walking and John bumped into him. 'D'you want to go with me?'

'What?' asked John, going red. 'As your date?'

Sherlock shrugged. 'I have to take someone with me and you want to go. It makes sense, right?'

John stared at his friend, then smiled. 'Okay.'

'Yeah? Good,' said Sherlock. 'I don't have to worry about the party anymore, then.' Looking satisfied, he entered the Great Hall and went to the Slytherin table. John sat down at the Gryffindor table, feeling light-headed.

**adadfkjadkfj the new Sherlock episode was amazing! Can't wait for The Hound next Sunday ^^.  
><strong>**And yeah, I apologise for not updating in a long time (a) I really shouldn't keep you waiting. But here you are, new chapter! n_n  
>Thanks for the lovely reviews btw, you guys are amazing!<br>****Oh, and someone asked me why I hate Snape. I don't hate him, actually, he's one of my favourite Harry Potter characters. I just needed a mean teacher and Snape seemed like an obvious choice. **


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

John entered the common room and sat down on a chair next to Mike and Sarah. Mike raised his eyebrows. 'You look happy.'

'Do I? Oh, it's just… No homework.' John shrugged.

'Listen, John, I was wondering…' said Sarah, looking up from the book she was reading. 'D'you want to go to Slughorn's party with me?'

'Oh,' said John. How was he going to explain to Sarah he was going with Sherlock? 'Well, I'm kind of busy that day, actually.'

'Doing what?'

'You know… homework and all. And I've got to practice for Quidditch, too. So I don't think I'll be able to come – sorry.'

'That's okay,' said Sarah, but her voice sounded small. She returned to her book.

John felt bad, but he'd already promised to go with Sherlock.

After a while Sarah stood up and left. Mike looked at John. 'You're not really busy on the day of the party, are you?'

John's eyes widened. Did Mike know about him and Sherlock going together?

'If you don't like her anymore, you could just _say _it.'

John sighed in relief. Clearly, Mike didn't know. He thought John had declined because he didn't want to go with Sarah. 'That's not it, Mike. Are you going?'

Mike shook his head. 'Slughorn didn't invite me and no one seems to want to go with me. I'm not as lucky as you.' He chuckled. 'Though you didn't even _accept _her invitation! You could've agreed to come with her as friends, you know.'

_So when I go with Sherlock – will we be going as friends? _wondered John. _Or are we more than that?_

...

When John left the common room, Sherlock was already standing outside of the Fat Lady. He was wearing beautiful dress robes that took John's breath away. 'Wow,' John managed to say.

'John!' said Sherlock, smiling as he surveyed his friend. He nodded approvingly. 'You look good.'

John felt himself getting red. 'Thanks. You too.'

'So… shall we go?' When John looked up, he saw Sherlock was looking at him awkwardly.

'Sure,' he answered.

They made their way to Professor Slughorn's office. John felt slightly nervous, but also happy. He kept glancing at Sherlock, quickly looking away when he found his friend was looking at him, too.

'Ah, Mr Holmes,' said Professor Slughorn when they'd arrived. 'And you've brought John with you, I see?'

'Yes, sir,' said Sherlock. 'He wasn't invited, so I decided to let him come with me.' There was something accusing in his voice, but Slughorn didn't seem to realize it.

'How nice of you. Come in!' He stepped aside and the two boys entered the room.

The room was decorated with hangings, lamps and balloons. It was crowded with students and some house-elves who were carrying heavy silver platters of food. Loud music John didn't recognize was playing.

They stood in the corner of the room for a few minutes, until John asked, 'So should we… dance?'

'I don't dance,' said Sherlock immediately.

'Oh,' said John.

A house-elf approached them. 'Would you like a pasty?'

'Yes, please,' said John, taking one.

'What about you, sir?'

'No, thanks,' said Sherlock with a smile. The house-elf disappeared into the crowd again.

'D'you ever eat?' asked John.

'If I didn't, I wouldn't be here, would I?' replied Sherlock. Seeing John's grin, he asked, 'What?'

'Nothing,' said John quickly.

Sherlock heaved a sigh.

'What?' asked John.

'Parties are dull.'

'They are,' agreed John. 'Shouldn't we go talk to someone?'

'Don't feel like it.'

'D'you feel like doing _anything_?'  
>'Well, standing here with you is fine.'<p>

'Thanks.' John looked at the dancing people, then froze. A brown-haired girl with a pink dress was standing on the dance floor, talking to a Ravenclaw boy he didn't recognize. He should've known she'd be here. She asked him with her, after all.  
>It was Sarah.<p>

Sherlock had noticed John's reaction. 'What?'

John stared at Sarah. She clearly hadn't seen him yet, but he couldn't risk it. She thought he wasn't going to the party. If she saw him, she'd be really angry at him. And if she saw he was with Sherlock–

'We need to get out of here!' John hissed, grabbing Sherlock's sleeve and pulling him with him, past the dance floor, towards the door.

Sherlock was struggling. '_Why?_'

'I'll tell you when we're outside! We need to leave!' said John urgently, still moving towards the door.

Sherlock clearly didn't understand what was going on, but he followed John out of the room, into the corridor. 'What the _hell _is going on?' He looked at the dancing people in Slughorn's office and his expression hardened. 'Oh, I see. It's about Sarah, isn't it?'

'Yes,' admitted John. 'I told her–'

But Sherlock turned around and started to walk away.

'Sherlock? What's wrong?' John called after him.

Sherlock stopped walking and turned around. 'Why'd you even agree to go to the party with me?'

John frowned. 'What d'you mean?'

'Obviously you don't want to be seen with me at the party. That's why we had to leave, isn't it? You're ashamed of me.'

'Of course I'm not ashamed of you!' said John disbelievingly. 'You don't understand!'

'Oh, I understand. You'd rather be friends with the other Gryffindors, wouldn't you? Well, that's fine by me. At least you could've told me, though!'

John felt himself getting angry. '_I_'m not the one having secrets! Why don't you tell me why you've only arrived at Hogwarts this year?'

'It doesn't matter,' said Sherlock coldly.

'It matters to _me_! I'm your friend, right? Why won't you tell me?'

'Why won't you tell _me _you don't want to be friends?' said Sherlock angrily.

'I do want to be friends!'

'So why don't you want Sarah to see us together at Slughorn's party?'

'Because I told her I wouldn't go when she asked me!'

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. 'Yeah, right.' He turned around and stalked off.

'Well, if you don't believe me, that's fine!' John shouted. 'I don't care!'

But he did care. And as Sherlock disappeared from his sight, he sank down to the floor and buried his face in his hands.

**I'm so freaked out over The Reichenbach Fall this Sunday! I'm sure it's going to be amazing, but someone's going to die and I can't even adkfjsdf**

**Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter, I'll try to update soon again because we don't want Sherlock and John to be angry with each other, do we? 0_o**

**So yeah, thanks to all of you for reviewing, and yes they will kiss soon :P**

**SevLovesLily thanks for the tip! I think I'll keep using ' marks in this story because I've been using those from the start but I'll use the double ones if I'm going to write another story n_n**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

The next days, John and Sherlock didn't talk to each other. Every time the Gryffindors and Slytherins had a class together, they'd sit as far away from each other as possible. Whenever they passed each other in the corridors, they ignored the other.

John spent more time together with the other Gryffindors, who were happy about that. They didn't know what had happened, but didn't care. 'In the end _we_'ll always be your friends,' Mike assured John.

Yet John felt terrible. During breakfast, he'd occasionally look over at Sherlock to see the boy was still refusing to eat. He felt bad about shouting at Sherlock, but he didn't dare talk to Sherlock.  
>Meanwhile, the next Quidditch match was approaching. John hardly had any free time left, as he also had a lot of homework.<p>

After a week, John couldn't take it anymore. During breakfast, he approached Sherlock.

'Come to laugh at me, have you?' Sherlock snapped when he saw John standing next to him. He looked bad, John realized. There were rings under his eyes.

'No, I haven't! I just wanted to say, I'm sorry–'

'Apology not accepted. Now go away.'

'Sherlock, you look terrible! I something wrong?'

'Oh, nothing at all. Just my best friend leaving me–'

'I didn't leave you! I told you, I'm sorry, okay?'

'I don't care, John.' Sherlock got up and left the Great Hall, making John feel more miserable than ever.

...

'Ready, John?' asked Lestrade optimistically. They were sitting in the dressing room, dressed in their Quidditch robes, waiting for the match against Ravenclaw to begin. John felt nervous and this time there was no Sherlock in the crowd to help him by smiling encouragingly.  
>A whistle sounded, and the Gryffindor team left the dressing room, entering the stadium. The crowd cheered. John had to force himself to not look for Sherlock among the Slytherins. Instead, he looked at the Ravenclaw team, who were waiting for them.<p>

Lestrade and the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain shook hands. 'Let's play!' shouted Madam Hooch.

John mounted his broom and rose up into the air, almost knocking a Ravenclaw Chaser he didn't know the name of, though she always called herself Anthea, off her broom. Muttering an apology, he started to fly round the pitch, looking for the Golden Snitch.

'And they're off! Gardens takes the Quaffle and flies towards the Gryffindor goalposts… But he's stopped by Davis! No wonder she couldn't pass him, that guy's as big as a troll…' John looked up, wanting to curse Anderson, but he saw Professor MacGonagall had already ripped the microphone from Anderson's hands.

John concentrated on the game again. He saw the Ravenclaw Seeker, a small black-haired girl was suddenly diving towards the ground. He quickly spurred his broom and followed her, afraid. Had she spotted the Snitch?

But at the last moment, she pulled out of her dive, rising again. She'd obviously faked the dive, wanting to make John crash, but John wasn't stupid. He easily pulled out his dive too, and rose again, when he saw a faint glitter on the other side of the pitch. He saw the Ravenclaw Seeker's eyes widen too, and knew she'd seen it too. As fast as he could, he flew towards the Snitch, the Ravenclaw Seeker on his heels. He already stretched out his hand, almost touching the small golden ball–

BAM! A Bludger smashed into John and he lost his balance. His hands slid from his broom and he felt himself falling towards the ground. Then everything went black.

...

John groaned and opened his eyes. He was lying in a bed in the Hospital Wing. Sherlock was sitting next to his bed, his face paler than ever and a tear trickling down his cheek. His hand was placed on top of John's.

John tried to recall what had happened, then remembered the Bludger.

Sherlock looked at John and his eyes widened. 'John!' He made to remove his hand, but John placed his other hand on top of Sherlock's.

'Are you okay?' he asked worriedly.

A small smile appeared on Sherlock's face. 'Am _I _okay? You're the one who got hit by a Bludger! How're you feeling?'

John shrugged. 'I'm fine. It's not that serious.'

'Not that serious? You fell off your broom! If it hadn't been for Dumbledore, you would've been dead!'

'How come Dumbledore's always there when we manage to get into trouble?' grinned John.

Sherlock grinned too, then got serious. 'John – I'm sorry. I overreacted at the party. Are we friends again?'

John smiled. 'Of course. And I'm sorry, too.'

'No,' said Sherlock. 'You were right. I should've told you why I'm only going to Hogwarts now. The thing is… I'm ashamed of it.'

'You don't have to tell me.'

'But I will,' said Sherlock firmly. 'You see… My parents love the Dark Arts. They're obsessed with it. When Mycroft turned eleven, he received a letter from Hogwarts. My parents had actually wanted to send him to Klammfels, but let him go to Hogwarts. But when Mycroft returned from his first year at Hogwarts, they found out the students weren't taught the Dark Arts at Hogwarts. They were only taught how to fight them. So when I received my Hogwarts letter, they rejected it and instead sent me to Klammfels, to learn the Dark Arts. But I hated it. It was terrible. After my fifth year at Klammfels I decided not to go back. So I ran away – until I ran into Dumbledore. He listened to my story and told me I'd be allowed to go to Hogwarts for my sixth year. So here I am.'

'And your parents don't know you're here?'

'No. They don't know where I am.'

'Does Mycroft know about this?'

'Obviously. He promised not to tell Mummy.'

John nodded slowly, looking down at his hand, which was intertwined with Sherlock's. 'So why're you ashamed?'

Sherlock looked at him disbelievingly. 'Because I went to Klammfels! I know about the Dark Arts! And my parents are bad people.'

'It doesn't matter, Sherlock. What matters is your choice. And you chose to go to Hogwarts.'

Sherlock looked at John intently. 'Thanks.'

'So that's where you learned to brew those difficult Potions and all?'

'That – and I'm clever.'

'Yes, you are,' admitted John. A thought came into his mind. 'Don't you have classes to go to?'

Sherlock shrugged. 'I'm skipping them.'

'Just for me?'

'You're worth it.'

John shook his head, grinning. 'You're unbelievable. Don't they know you're here?'

'Dumbledore knows,' said Sherlock. 'But he doesn't seem to mind.'

'He's a good man, letting you go to Hogwarts and all.'

'Yes,' agreed Sherlock, looking out of the window. 'That he is.'

'So you're okay now?' John asked. 'Now that you're at Hogwarts, I mean.'

'It's much better than Klammfels. I didn't just hate it because of the Dark Arts, it was also the students. They bullied me.'

'I'm sorry,' John mumbled.

'It's not your fault. In fact, you're the one who saved me. I came here, thinking I was going to be just as miserable, but then you dropped into my life. Without you I'd be really lonely.'  
>'I'd be really lonely without you, too,' John whispered. 'I mean, there's the other Gryffindors – but they're not like you. You're my best friend.'<p>

Sherlock loosened his hand from John's grip, placing it on John's forehead. 'You're running a fever,' he announced. 'No wonder, that Bludger almost killed you.'

He slowly moved his hand down to John's cheek, making John's heart pound loudly. They stared into each other's eyes, moving closer, until John felt Sherlock's lips press against his. His eyes widened, but after his initial surprise he kissed his friend back. He ran his tongue over Sherlock's bottom lip. Sherlock's lips parted and their kiss deepened. John pressed himself closer to Sherlock.

When at last they broke apart, John was blushing. 'So I'm completely forgiven, right?'

Sherlock gave him a smile. 'Always,' he answered, taking John's hand.

**I hope that made all you guys that are still trying to recover from The Reichenbach Fall happier! I'm so depressed right now - so naturally I'm going to watch it again tomorrow, just to cry again xD.  
>Thanks everyone for reading my story and thanks for leaving me reviews :3<br>Beckasaurus Kanda Sure, let's get married ^^. And I'm quite curious about Indiano Jones, gremlins and pudding actually :P  
>SevLovesLily Wow, thanks so much for drawing a comic about something I wrote! It's really flattering :D and you're really good! I myself can't draw at all xD. <strong>


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

'You really don't need to keep missing lessons for me. I'm doing fine,' John said. He'd been in the Hospital Wing for three days now. The last days, Sherlock had come to check on him at least five times a day. Not that John minded, but he didn't want Sherlock to be in trouble because of him.

Sherlock shrugged. 'I'll be fine. It's you I'm worried about.'

John rolled his eyes. 'It doesn't hurt anymore! To be honest, I'm surprised Madam Pomfrey doesn't let me go yet. I'm fine, look!' He stepped out of bed to prove his point, but immediately felt dizzy and fell back into his bed. Sherlock grinned. 'Yup. Perfectly fine.'

'Oh, shut up,' John said, but he grinned. Ever since they'd kissed three days ago he'd been really happy. It seemed some unspoken agreement had passed between them and they'd become a couple.

Sherlock casually ran his hand through John's hair, then rested it on his friend's forehead. 'Well, at least your fever's gone,' he said brightly. At that moment, Madam Pomfrey entered the room. 'Holmes!' she shouted. 'Out! My patient needs to rest.'

Sherlock made a face and left the room.

...

The next day, John was allowed to leave the Hospital Wing. Just as he left the room, he bumped into Sherlock. 'Did she let you go?' asked Sherlock.

'She did,' John agreed.

Sherlock took John's hand. 'Let's go. You're just in time for Potions class.'

'Er, Sherlock?' John asked, embarrassed, looking down at their intertwined hands.

'Yes?'

'Our hands – people might talk.'

'They do little else. Also, they'd be right, wouldn't they?'

John smiled. 'Yes, I suppose they would.'

'Do you know what day it is, by the way?' Sherlock asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

'Not exactly,' said John. 'Why? Does it matter?'

'Oh no, not at all,' Sherlock said casually. But John had the idea there was something going on.

...

'…which is why it's such a dangerous Potion,' Slughorn droned on. John yawned. The Potions teacher had been talking nonstop for twenty minutes and he was getting bored. He wanted to roll his eyes at Sherlock, but his friend wasn't looking at him. He seemed to be very concentrated, but John could see his eyes were glazed, so he wasn't paying attention to Slughorn. Then what was he doing?

John looked down at Sherlock's hand to see Sherlock was tapping on the desk. _Is he just really bored? _John wondered. _Or is he doing something? _An idea came to him. _Is it Morse code?_

Sherlock momentarily stopped tapping, then started again. John listened very carefully to figure out what Sherlock was tapping, and wrote down what he heard.

.- .. .-.. .-.. -.- - ..- -... . - -.- ... -. - .-.. . -. - .. -. . ..-..

John knew Morse code: he'd taught it to himself a few years ago, wanting to be able to communicate without anyone being able to know what he was saying. However, he'd never found anyone who wanted to talk in Morse code with him, so he'd never got the change to use it.

He started deciphering the code. After five minutes, he saw what Sherlock had wanted to tell him, and he realised why Sherlock had asked him if he knew what day it was.

"Will you be my valentine?"

It was Valentine's Day!

He'd never paid attention to Valentine's Day, because there had never been anyone to ask him. Today, however, he found Valentine's Day the best day there was.

The bell rang and the students started to file out. 'Do I have to answer in Morse?' John asked as he left the classroom. 'In that case, dash dot dash dash. Dot. Dot dot dot.'

Sherlock smiled. 'So you know Morse code!'

'Was that a test?' John asked, pretending to be offended.

'Might have been,' Sherlock said. 'But I really was asking you.'

'I didn't know you cared about Valentine's Day.'

'Neither did I. I heard someone talking about it in the corridor when I was on my way to the Hospital Wing.' Sherlock pointed his wand to the ceiling and muttered something. A green plant started growing above their head.

'Mistletoe,' John commented.

'Guess you'll have to kiss me now,' Sherlock said innocently.

'You're impossible,' John grinned, pulling Sherlock towards him and pressing his lips against Sherlock's. Sherlock threw his arms around John's neck, responding to the kiss.

'Whoo! Holmes and Watson!' someone shouted excitedly.

'Shut up, Anderson,' Sherlock said before moving his face towards John again to kiss him once more.

...

Naturally, because Anderson knew about Sherlock and John, the whole school did. People pointed at them as they passed, giggling and making faces. But John didn't find himself caring about that at all. He just ignored the people who were making fun of them.

And there was someone else who didn't mind the fact that everyone was staring at the couple. _Because, _Moriarty thought as he was sitting in the library, a few feet away from Sherlock and John, _this makes it easier for me to watch them._

__**Just a fluffy short chapter for y'all! Next chapter I'm bringing back a real storyline with a mystery and all.  
>I like mysterious last sentences ^^. You've probably noticed that.<br>Anyway, thanks for reading my story and I hope you liked it (: **


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

John was just working on his Potions essay when Professor MacGonagall entered the common room. It was nine o'clock in the evening, and John had just had Quidditch practice.  
>'Is everyone present?' asked Professor MacGonagall nervously. 'Good. I have to ask of you to remain in your common room for the rest of the day.'<p>

'What? _Why?_' asked Lestrade.

'Something's happened. Something bad.' With those words, MacGonagall left the room.

'Well, that clears everything up,' said Mike sarcastically. He sighed and returned his attention to his Exploding Snap game.

'John!' someone shouted. John turned around to see Sherlock standing there.

'How the hell did _you_ get here?' he asked. He saw the other Gryffindors looking disapprovingly at Sherlock.

'He's not even allowed in here!' Mike protested.

'Oh, shut up, it's not like I _want _to be here,' snapped Sherlock. 'I'll be going in a moment, don't worry. Now John, what d'you think of this thing that's happened?'

'I don't even know _what _happened,' said John. 'MacGonagall wouldn't tell us.'

'No, Snape wouldn't either,' said Sherlock thoughtfully. 'But it's obvious, isn't it?'

'What?'

'Snape wanted to know whether everyone was present.'

'Yeah, so did MacGonagall.'

'Suzette Nichols wasn't there. Someone told Snape this, but he pretended not to hear.'

'So Suzette Nichols is still out there? That's bad!'

Sherlock rolled his eyes. 'He pretended not to _hear_, John. Something must've happened to her.'

'Something? You don't mean…?'

'Murder? Perhaps. But one thing we know: it's something bad. And we have to find out what.'

'_What? We _don't need to do anything! The teachers told us to stay in our common room! You're already breaking the rules by being here!'

'Since when do I care about breaking the rules?' asked Sherlock. '_I_'m going to find out what's going on, and you can't stop me. Will you come with me?'

John thought about this, then sighed. 'I suppose you need someone to save you from yourself. I'll come.'

Sherlock flashed him a grin, then left the room, John on his heels. 'So where're we going?'

'To have a look at the body.'

'D'you know where it is?'

But Sherlock froze, then grabbed John's sleeve and pulled him to the wall.  
>'What the–?' said John, but Sherlock interrupted him, placing his hand over John's mouth.<p>

'Someone's coming!'

As Snape passed them, they tried not to move. But he didn't even look around: clearly he was too distracted. 'Let's follow him,' hissed Sherlock. 'He'll lead us to the body. I'm sure that's where he's going.' He took John's hand and pulled him along.  
>They began to trail the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, until they arrived in the dungeons, where all the other teachers were gathered, too. The two of them slid behind a pillar and listened to what Professor Dumbledore was saying.<p>

'– must've been murder. But the question is, who did it?'

'In a school this big, it could be anyone,' said Snape briskly.

'Severus, surely you're not suggesting it was one of the _students_?' asked Professor Sprout, looking shocked.

'We don't know, Pomona! For all we know it could be,' said Professor MacGonagall somberly.

'Let's not suspect everyone. The students are innocent until proven guilty.'

'If it isn't one of them, it must be one of us,' said Snape coldly. 'Surely you're not suggesting _we _did it?'

'Not at all, Severus. Perhaps it was someone else. Someone who sneaked into the castle.'

'But why?' asked Professor Flitwich nervously. 'Why kill her? She was just an innocent student.'

'We don't know. What we do know is that we have to be careful. We have to make sure this doesn't happen again. And we have to inform the parents of our students.'

'Some will want their students to leave Hogwarts,' MacGonagall pointed out.

'I know,' agreed Dumbledore. 'But things could get worse. If we don't solve this, Hogwarts will have to close – for good.'

There were gasps, and John was shocked too. Hogwarts closing? That wasn't possible! Hogwarts was the best magic school in the world, and the safest place on earth! At least he thought it was. But now someone had been murdered.

'Was it the Killing Curse?' asked Professor Flitwick.

'Must've been,' answered MacGonagall. She picked up the dead girl's wand. 'Let's have a look what the last spell she cast was. _Prior Incantato!_'

'It was the Killing Curse!' exclaimed Flitwick.

'She was killed with her own wand, then?' said Professor Sprout.

'The murderer must've stolen it,' said Snape.

'But why leave it behind?' wondered MacGonagall.

'To make it less suspicious? I have no idea,' said Dumbledore. 'Are there any fingerprints on the wand that aren't from the victim?'

MacGonagall cast a spell, then shook her head. 'I'm afraid not.'

Sherlock took John's hand and led him away from the crime scene until they were on the First Floor. 'I think we've seen enough.'

'Suicide?' asked John. '_Can _you commit suicide with the Killing Curse?'

'I don't think so,' said Sherlock. 'But I do know it was probably a student.'

'Why?'

'Like Professor Flitwick said, she was just an ordinary girl. I knew her, and she was totally boring. Who'd want to kill a girl like her? It had to be someone who knew her well, who didn't like her. Perhaps because she bullied him – because she _is_ a bit of a bully. She once called me a psychopath.'

'She did?' asked John. 'What'd you say?'

'I told her I was a high-functioning sociopath, and she should do her research. After that she was quiet, though I heard her asking a friend what the hell a high-functioning sociopath was.'

'So one of her victims killed her?' John shook his head. 'But it could be anyone.'

'_Could _be, yes,' agreed Sherlock, squeezing his boyfriend's hand. 'But we'll find him or her. We'll prevent Hogwarts from being closed.'

**The game begins...  
>That sounded dramatic xD.<br>Thanks for your lovely reviews and alerts, hope you liked this chapter (: **


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

The next day, Professor MacGonagall visited the Gryffindor common room again. 'I will escort you to the Great Hall. Once there, please wait until your teacher escorts you to your lesson. You're not allowed to wander around the castle alone.'

'But what's _happened_?' asked Lestrade.

'A girl's been murdered.'

There were several gasps, and John pretended to look surprised. He sighed. So this was the end of Sherlock's and his investigations. They wouldn't even be allowed to be out of _sight _of the teachers.

...

After having eaten breakfast, the students who followed Potions and Professor Slughorn made their way to the Potions classroom. 'Are you still planning to solve the murder?' asked John.

'Of course I am! I'm not letting some stupid _rules _getting in my way,' snorted Sherlock.

'But what if you get expelled?'

'Are you worried about me?' Sherlock grinned.

'Well, you _are _my boyfriend,' John pointed out. 'I care about you.'

'I'll be careful. Don't you think we should continue investigating? We have to find out who did this! I don't want Hogwarts to close, do you?'

'No, I don't,' said John immediately. 'And I suppose you're right. You being smart and all – you may be the only one who can solve this.'

'Out of the way, Peeves!' said Professor Slughorn briskly as Peeves zoomed up to them.

'Yes, sir,' muttered the poltergeist.

Sherlock's eyes widened. 'Why is he so _friendly _all of a sudden? That's not like him, is it?'

'No, it isn't,' agreed John. 'That's strange. Maybe he's intimidated by the girl's death.'

'That doesn't make sense. Why would he be?'

John rolled his eyes. 'Why? Gosh, I don't know. Maybe because someone actually _died_, Sherlock! Everyone's sad because of that, and they're afraid because they don't want to die, too.'

'But Peeves can't die,' Sherlock pointed out. 'So that's not the reason he acts like this. Also, why would _he _care? He's just a poltergeist wanting to have fun. No, there has to be another reason…'  
>He frowned, and refused to talk for the whole Potions lesson.<p>

'We have to talk to Peeves,' he said when the lesson ended. Hoisting his rucksack on his shoulders, he wanted to leave the classroom, only to be stopped by Professor Slughorn.  
>'I'm to take you to your next class,' he said sternly. 'You never know what might happen.'<p>

Sherlock sighed. 'Dull.'

...

When John entered the Great Hall after having had Charms, he was immediately confronted with Sherlock. 'We have to escape _now_! Talk to Peeves!'

John looked around the Great Hall. 'They won't let us.'

'Who cares about that?' said Sherlock impatiently. He got a Stink Bomb out of his pocket. 'This'll distract them.'

John gasped. 'You can't–'

But Sherlock had already triggered the bomb, and he threw it into the Hall, where it exploded. Panic arose, and while everyone was freaking out the two boys quickly left the Great Hall, running through corridors to make sure no one was behind them. Once they were sure they were alone, they burst out laughing. 'That – was – crazy!' panted John, leaning against the wall. Sherlock leaned against the wall, too, his shoulder brushing against John's. 'And now?'

'We'll have to find Peeves,' said Sherlock.

'How?'

'_Peeves!_' tried Sherlock, but there was no answer.

'Um, Peeves?' said John tentatively. 'We, er, need to talk to you.'

There was a _pop_, and the poltergeist appeared. He didn't look like his usual happy self at all. 'Is something wrong?' asked John.

'Nothing wrong with Peeves at all!' said the poltergeist in his cackling voice. 'Just wrecking the castle like always!'

'We know you were there, Peeves,' Sherlock interrupted him. 'When the girl was killed, I mean.'

'He was?' said John, surprised.

'Of course.'

'Peeves didn't see it, he didn't,' said Peeves. '…But Peeves heard it.'

'Heard it? You heard her being killed?' said John.

Peeves nodded.

'What did you hear?' asked Sherlock seriously.

'The ugly girl – Suzette – she was in the dungeon. Suddenly, she started screaming. Then she shouted, '_Avada Kedavra!' _Then there was a last scream, and then it was quiet. Peeves didn't see, Peeves was around the corner, so Peeves doesn't know who did it. He'd disappeared when Peeves went to see what was going on.'

'_She _cast the Killing Curse?' said John. 'But how come _she _was the one who was killed? Did the spell bounce back?'

'No, that's not possible,' disagreed Sherlock. 'But it _is _strange.'

'Are you sure it wasn't suicide?'

'Like I told you before, John, you can't commit suicide with the Avada Kedavra,' said Sherlock impatiently. He turned to Peeves. 'So the murderer _didn't _cast the Avada Kedavra spell?'

'He didn't!' cackled Peeves. 'I'm sure!'

'Did you hear anything else that might explain how he killed her?'

'Nothing, arrogant guy!'

'Don't call him arrogant,' John said at once.

Sherlock smiled at his boyfriend. 'Thanks, John.' He turned to the poltergeist. 'Well, we know enough. Thanks for your help, Peeves.'

Peeves snorted. 'Peeves doesn't help _students_!'

'I'm under the impression you just did.'

Peeves didn't seem to know an answer to this, so he zoomed off. 'Gah!'

'So _she _cast Avada Kedavra. Doesn't that make _her _a bad person?' wondered John. 'Maybe whoever killed her just felt threatened.'

'It's strange,' admitted Sherlock. 'I know she's a bully, but she wouldn't kill someone. I'm sure of that. So she must've really panicked. Which means there was something scary about her murderer. It wasn't just a student.'

'But you said it _was _a student.'

'I said a student's behind this. But there's something more – something I haven't quite figured out yet. There's also something else we should be wondering.'

'What is it?'

'How come the murderer didn't die? Suzette cast Avada Kedavra.'

'Evaded the spell?' suggested John.

'Perhaps,' mused Sherlock. 'But it was in the dungeons, in a very small corridor. It would've been difficult to escape. And the other question is, how was she killed? Because it wasn't the Killing Curse.'

'She saw her murderer, screamed, cast Avada Kedavra, then died,' John summed up. 'What could've happened?'

'It wasn't a weapon or anything, because there were no wounds or blood on the body. She looked perfectly healthy – except she was dead. So it definitely was something magical. But other than the Killing Curse, what could've done this?'

'I thought you were the one with all the answers.'

'Nah. What's the fun of immediately knowing the answer? The thrill's in the chase, never in the capture!' With these words, Sherlock set off towards the Great Hall.  
><em>Fun? <em>thought John. _It's like he's actually _enjoying _this. _He ran after Sherlock.

**I'm not sure Peeves is really in character but I had this idea in my head so I had to write it.. Hope that's all right with you guys (:  
><strong>**Also, there'll be more fluff in the next chapter n_n  
>Btw, if you want to speculate about how Suzette was killed, go ahead! I'd love to read your theories. <strong>


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

John and Sherlock were sitting by the lake, enjoying the sun. John was attempting to do his homework, but it was difficult to concentrate because Sherlock was leaning against him, absent-mindedly stroking his arm.  
>They weren't the only one outside: loads of students were sitting on the grass and relaxing. It almost looked like an ordinary day, but if you looked closer you noticed the teachers paying close attention to the students and making sure nothing would happen. A few days had passed since the murder, but nothing else had happened. Still, people were nervous. The idea that there was a murderer walking around Hogwarts wasn't exactly reassuring.<p>

'Oh, whatever,' sighed John, throwing down his quill. 'I'll finish this later.'

'Good idea,' agreed Sherlock, although he wasn't doing any homework anyway.

'So d'you already have any idea of how the girl was killed?'

'I looked through some books in the library yesterday, but I haven't found anything yet,' said Sherlock. 'The thing is, the only spell that's really capable of killing is Avada Kedavra. But it wasn't a weapon or anything either. So what _could _it have been?'

'Oh well, let's just relax now,' said John, lying down on the ground.

Sherlock lied down too and began humming quietly, his eyes closed. John snuggled up to Sherlock and put his arm around him. He closed his eyes too and felt himself dozing off.

...

'_Animal_!'

John was woken by Sherlock's sudden exclamation. He yawned and looked at Sherlock. 'What'd you say?'

'Animal! Has to be!'

'You're talking nonsense.'

'No, I'm not! How could the girl have been killed if it wasn't a curse and it wasn't a weapon? It has to be some sort of animal. There has to be a magical creature that can kill you without wounding you.'

'How? Like Medusa or something? You die when you look at her eyes, right?'

'She's not an animal, John,' said Sherlock impatiently. 'Besides, you don't die, you get turned to stone.'

'Oh.' John shrugged. 'Same difference.'

'Still, you've got a–' Sherlock's eyes widened. 'No way,' he whispered. 'How can it–? Still…'

'Do tell me when you feel like telling me what you're on about,' said John, a little annoyed.

'You said it yourself!' Sherlock grinned at John. 'Oh, you're _brilliant_!'

John raised his eyebrows. '_What _did I say?'

'You die when you look at its eyes.'

...

'So what exactly is your brilliant deduction?' asked John. He was standing in the library. Sherlock was sitting on the ground next to him, reading a book on magical creatures.

'Think, John. What animal can make you die just by looking at it?'

'Er – well, if you mean "dying of ugliness" it'd have to be Professor Snape,' said John, pretending to be serious.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and showed John a picture in the book he was reading. It looked like an enormous snake. John's eyes widened. 'You mean – a basilisk?'

'Obviously.' Sherlock got to his feet and put the book back. 'The question is, how does he move about the school? He can't just slide through the corridors without being noticed.'

'Like I said, it has to be Professor Snape.'

'He does look rather slimy, doesn't he?' said Sherlock, smiling.

John laughed out loud. 'Seriously though, it's not possible. It can't be a basilisk. Like you said, how can no one notice it?'

'How d'_you _think the girl was killed, then?'

John shifted uncomfortably. 'I don't know.'

'It could only be a basilisk. Trust me.'

'So what do we do now? Tell the teachers?'

Sherlock snorted. 'The _teachers? _What're they going to do about it? They'd only want to close the school. No, we have to solve this. The basilisk can't be the only culprit. Someone human must've released it.'

'How d'you release a basilisk in a school? How'd he get it in here?'

'Good question,' nodded Sherlock.

'Does that mean you don't know?'

'I'm working on it!'

'Hang on,' said John slowly. 'So the basilisk has to come from somewhere, yeah?'

'Yes. Why?'

'What if it didn't come from _outside _the castle – what if it was already inside?'

'What, it lives here?'

'Not in the castle. In the Chamber of Secrets.'

'The _what_?'

'It's this legend about a secret chamber somewhere in the castle. No one knows where it is, or if it even exists. But there's supposed to be some kind of monster in there.'

'The basilisk,' whispered Sherlock. 'John, that's _amazing_! You're good!'

John grinned proudly. 'The problem is, we don't know where it is.'

'Is there anything else about that chamber?' asked Sherlock urgently, leaning towards John.

'Er,' said John. 'Yeah, it can only be opened by the so-called heir of Slytherin.'

'So it was a Slytherin! Not very surprising.'

'Are you judging your co-Slytherins now?'

Sherlock shrugged. 'Well, it's true. Anything else?'

'Someone was killed the last time it was opened. In a bathroom.'

Sherlock's eyes widened. 'Pipes! He's moving around through the pipes!'

'Then how did he kill Suzette?'

'He must've been able to get out somewhere… The victim before Suzette was killed in a bathroom, yeah? That's where the pipes lead to, of course. If we find the bathroom in which the victim was killed, we might be able to find the Chamber of Secrets..'

'Just like that, you figured out something people have been wondering about for years?' John shook his head unbelievingly.

'Yup,' declared Sherlock. 'We don't know which bathroom though. And there are loads of them.'

'True,' agreed John. 'So we do what, check them all?'

'I don't know if it's that easy to find the Chamber – after all, no one's ever found it before. No, I think–'

'Hey, you there!' Madam Pince shouted suddenly. 'It's six o'clock – you're supposed to be in the Great Hall right now. As you well know, there's a killer walking around Hogwarts and you're not allowed to be here alone right now.'

Sherlock rolled his eyes. 'These restrictions annoy me. As if they'd kill _me._'

'They wouldn't dare,' chuckled John, leaning in to kiss his boyfriend. 'You'd haunt them forever.'

**I haven't posted a new chapter in _ages _0.o I feel really guilty about leaving you like this! Hope you like this chapter :) some of you got it right, it's a basilisk :3**


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